


cut your teeth on my heart

by turnyourankle



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Bodyguard Louis, Canada, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Hate to Love, M/M, Smut, Suspense, Toronto, and it's not an au of any bodyguard movies or show, it's an original plot!, it's got a real plot it's still smutty bc that's all i know how to write, oh ya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2019-10-07 13:53:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 94,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17367086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: Louis has worked as a security officer for years, but he's handed his first opportunity to be team lead. The assignment is nothing like what he expected.Harry has spent years trying to distance himself from the pressure of the Twist name and legacy. But it's going to be hard to avoid when his mum hires him a bodyguard.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write a bodyguard AU for years so I'm so happy that it's finally come together. I'm very excited about this story. 
> 
> I'm quite far ahead on this and it's fully outlined so it will be finished. I'm hoping to finish chapter 1 shortly so... hopefully frequent-ish updates :)
> 
> Massive thanks to my betas M & A, and I've had such amazing cheerleaders I'm excited to share this with you guys, even if no one else ends up liking it!

The day Harry goes missing starts like any other.

Louis’ alarm goes off, and he stays in bed while he checks his phone for important news. There are perfunctory status update emails from Niall, tracking Harry’s leaving and returning to the flat, and Liam signing off that the changing of the guards had gone well. 

Louis hasn’t heard from Harry since he last saw him six days ago. He doesn’t expect it, but he’s still on edge, waiting for the call that he knows is going to come at some point. He fears it, but it’s because he doesn’t know what’ll be expected from him. Harry has two alternatives to choose from, and Louis has absolutely no idea which he’ll pick.

So he has taken to keeping his phone close and the sound on. He can get away with that now, since he’s not technically doing fieldwork. 

He does get a call when he leaves his flat, steps rushed since he’s running a bit behind. He pounces on the call immediately, but he’s in such a hurry that he doesn’t have the time to check who it’s from.

It’s Anne’s voice that cuts through the ambient sounds surrounding him as he crosses the street. “Louis,” she says first, a heavy breath following, quick and harsh. “Louis, where are you?” 

“I’m on the way to debrief Liam, why?” He asks, the cadence of her speech already intoning that something is wrong, very wrong. 

“Is Harry with you? You won’t get into trouble, I swear.”

Her words slice through Louis’ spine like a knife through butter. He comes to a full stop on the street, getting out of the way from the rest of the pedestrians and dropping his weight against the closest wall. It’s a shop window, his shirt sliding over the glass, and he rights himself again. 

“No, I’m not active on his detail at this time,” Louis says, his voice foreign to himself. The words detached from his own mouth, his own brain, coming from outside of himself. He clutches the phone harder, pressing it as close to his ear as it physically can be, until the shell of his ear grows hot. 

It’s something to hold onto as Anne carries on, pleads, “Please, Louis. I just want to know he’s safe.”

“No. Anne. He’s not here.” It’s only then that he fully realizes the weight of her questioning him. Harry is gone. And Anne thinks he would be with Louis. Why? Why would they think Louis would be the one Harry would run to? 

He and Harry had agreed that Harry was going to come directly to him when he made a decision. But his family didn’t know that. No one knew. And that Anne is asking this of him, means-- well it probably means she knows about the two of them. He has to swallow back the taste of bile.

He can’t think about this now, though, not with Anne making near sobbing noises through the phone. A rustling follows, and Gemma’s steely voice replaces Anne’s.

“Louis.”

The determination that she puts in just saying his name snaps him back to reality. The reason why they called him, specifically, doesn’t matter right now. What matters now is finding Harry, safe and sound. 

“We’ll fix it, Gemma. I’ll find him.”

 

///

 

Louis was expected at The Twist Foundation at nine-thirty sharp. This was to be his first solo pitch, and if he could secure the foundation as clients he would also get to be team lead, for the first time. 

The Foundation was only a couple years old, but they already had a security detail for most of their events. Which is why a hush went through the office when Steve told them about their request assignment.

Their monthly progress report meetings where projects were delegated consisted of all the in-office staff crowding into Steve’s office, sometimes even spilling outside, having to present what they’d accomplished verbally with no visual aids. 

“The Twist Foundation sent us a request for proposal to do security at their contributor’s gala,” Steve had closed with at the time. He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular for someone eager to take it on, which meant he’d decided already who it would go to. All ears were perked to hear who would get to handle it. It wasn’t a status assignment--heck, it was a fucking _pitch_ , no assignment guaranteed at this stage. But there was prestige to rubbing shoulders with the likes of the Twists.

“Something probably happened with their last security team. Which means there’s room for us to impress,” Steve started, pausing to scan all of their faces. It was a far less raucous scene than usual. The tension entirely due to hearing who would get the assignment. “Tomlinson. You can impress them, can’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Louis said, aware that everyone’s attention was on him now. He’d been clamoring for a chance to lead on a case. Liam, who was stood behind Louis, patted him on the back solidly in congratulations.

“You can work that Northern charm on them,” Steve said, and there were a few chuckles. The tension was broken. 

Geoff scoffed., “They might be looking for someone cheaper.”

“Well, they’ve come to the wrong people if that’s what they want,” Steve said, making a show out of shuffling his papers together to indicate that it was time to wrap things up.

Still, Geoff persevered, “I dunno, I think if they can get thousands of pounds and dollar donations from tight pusrsed assholes you think Tommo the softie is going to be a challenge for them?” 

Louis flipped him off, knowing better than to curse at him on the job. This type of sparring and teasing wasn’t unusual, but he guessed there was an undercurrent of jealousy there. Geoff had the most experience with events. He must’ve thought he was a shoe-in. But instead of asking Steve why he’d been snubbed, or happy that Louis would get a chance to step up, Geoff was going to take it out on him.

Steve leaned back in his chair, chin low and hands folded in front of him. “That’s why _this_ is his first solo outing. Because if he can get through the ruthlessness of the charity circuit without offering our services for nothing I’ll know he’s ready to lead a full mission,” he said with confidence

No pressure at all, Louis had gritted his teeth, smiling through it. He grabbed the file from Steve’s desk, and he left in a hurry, not bothering to wait for the crowd to dissipate. He planned on delivering, on knocking this out of the park.

Which was why he was at his desk at Neon Security, more than an hour before his scheduled meeting to make sure he had everything he needed. It didn’t matter that this the office was farther away from the Foundation headquarters, and that maybe the hour more of sleep he’d have gotten if he’d left from home would have helped him amp up the charm. He wanted to be as prepared as he could be.

"Twist, today?” Geoff’s voice echoed through the empty office. Of course he’d be there early.

“Yep,” Louis answered, not looking up at him. He wouldn’t be surprised if Geoff offered to go in Louis’ stead, since he was so keen, and thought he could do so much better.

“Have you done your homework?" 

“'I’ve read the RFP backwards and forwards. Looked at their past event security history.” He left it at that; there was no need to show off further.

“But what do you know about _them_? The foundation, the people.”

Only then did Louis look actually look at Geoff. His collar was crisp and his trousers pressed; he probably had a pitch of his own to go to today. Yet he was pestering Louis about his work. His frown was deep enough that his eyebrows were nearly concealed by the rim of his glasses.

Louis sighed dramatically. “They are a private foundation that believe art and culture benefit children and youth, and strengthens communities whilst building connections and developing relationships.” 

“That’s what the website says, word for word.” 

“And it was on the RFP,” Louis allowed a hint of smugness through, pleased when it resulted in Geoff rolling his eyes.

“That's no way to impress them. Are you scared if you know too much about their pet causes you’ll want to work for them for free?”

Louis could’ve asked Geoff why he cared so much, but he was like this with everyone. Feeling like he deserved the pick of the litter, and when someone had an assignment he wanted he made sure to show off how much more prepared he was. How much more suitable. He hadn’t managed to poach a case off of anyone yet, but he still kept at it. Unfortunately he was very tenacious.

Louis was rescued by Steve, coming into the office, hair tied in a low, sleek ponytail. He pointed to Louis with a wink as he passed his desk. “Don’t be late.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, Geoff is making sure of that,” Louis said with a wide smile, the contempt dripping from the corner of his mouth. But Steve wasn’t looking at him, so he didn’t have to bother hiding it.

 

/

 

In the years Louis had been at Neon, with the relentless drilling of the importance of being on schedule, he’d managed to work through his chronic tardiness. Today he was early enough to stake out the surroundings of the building, This was his new chronic habit; paying attention to his surroundings to the degree it verged on paranoia. It’s what made him good at his job, though.

There was a small car park across the street, with shiny perfect cars in a row. The building itself was posh, pillars at the front and pronounced stucco moulding on the windows.

The street itself looked clean; as if the pavement had been scrubbed and dusted, no stray leaves, no put out cigarettes, no flyers or gum. And not a bin in sight. 

It certainly didn’t look like the headquarters of any charity he’d visited before. Perhaps Steve was right and they were quite cutthroat behind the scenes. Their mission was to loosen the purse strings of those with plenty to give, which certainly required a specific type of personality and aesthetic.

Louis straightened his shoulders, opened up his chest and took a deep breath in. Holding it, he kept his chin high as he let himself into the building, mental armor on. 

He was escorted to the lift by the concierge, and onto the fourth floor, and was greeted by a young woman who seemed to be waiting for him.

“Hi there. I’m Priya, Ms. Twist’s assistant.” 

“Louis Tomlinson. Security specialist.”

“Lovely to meet you,” she said, and she seemed to mean it, as the words were followed by a broad smile. but Louis also recognized her suit as Dior, and the glimpse of her teeth that he got was blinding. If he saw her on the street he would’ve guessed she worked with publicity, not charity. 

Still, he smiled back, and gave her a firm handshake. It was good to be able to see past the window dressing of the organization. It seemed like he was getting the same full service that a prospective donor might get; being ushered to a glass walled conference room with a bakery spread on the table. He accepted a cup of tea from Priya when she offered, mostly so he could have a few seconds to himself before he had to deliver the goods. 

He placed his folders by a seat, and stood waiting, hands folded in front of him, and legs inching apart. He couldn’t turn off the side of him that noticed things, and he recognized Anne Twist when she came into view. He hadn’t met her before, but he had done his research. 

He expected her to turn into a hallway or office at some point, but she continued straight to the conference room that he was in. She approached him with an outstretched hand and smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was the first of that kind so far, a contrast to Priya’s earlier warmth. He filed that away for later. 

“Thank you so much for coming on such short notice.” Her handshake was firm. “I think Priya is getting Matthew-- our event manager.” She took a seat opposite Louis. From the way she leaned forward, it seemed she was on the verge of asking something. Her mouth even opened before the glass door opened with a clean click and Priya walked in. She had a tray with a teapot and cups, and she was followed by a bloke with a neatly trimmed beard, and slicked back hair. Matthew, Louis presumed. 

They all took their seats, and Matthew took the lead, Ms. Twist slumping back in her seat. Louis still made sure to address her as he explained what their strategies would be, and she met his eye, but it didn’t seem like she was absorbing anything he was saying. 

He was surprised that she’d walked into the meeting in the first place. From what he knew, the foundation was a wedding gift to her from her late husband, and since his passing she’d taken on a much larger role in the parent company, Twist Ltd, which he’d heralded. Those kind of mounting responsibilities would leave little time to meddle with a pitch like this, but there she was. It would make some sense if she was micromanaging, but she wasn’t. Her disinterest was notable. 

Priya looked at her watch, and placed a gentle hand on Ms. Twist’s elbow,whispering that she was expected elsewhere soon. Things were wrapping up and Louis was still in the dark.

He indicated that he was ready to leave by closing his folder. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, is there a particular reason you’re changing security teams?” Certainly this was one of the mysteries he could get an answer to before leaving.

Ms. Twist’s eyes widened slightly before she collected herself. She seemed caught off guard. 

Matthew stepped in, “Oh, well, it’s nice to get fresh blood once in a while. The company we used last year seems to have some scheduling conflict this time around.”

“There was also the incident with a staff member’s hair catching fire,” Priya added.

“Oh, yes! There’s that, too.”

“Fire safety is particularly important, then. Got it.” Louis made a note of that, although he doubted it would be of use. He might not have pitched before, but it felt off, and having the brass attend your pitch but show no interest in it seemed like a bad sign. Still, he was playing the game.

“Oh! I actually, I have a brief prepared for you,” Ms. Twist said finally,pushing her chair back so she could reach down for her briefcase. Matthew and Priya shot each other looks of confusion. Louis had all the information already; or he should have. That was the whole point of this meeting. Still, he kept his face blank. 

“Of course.” He took a sip of the tea that had been brought to him. 

“There’s just some extra information in there, I’d like to hear your thoughts on it.” The briefcase clicked open and she kept it on her lap rather than put it on the table, shielding the contents from the others’ view. 

She pulled out a slim folder with a navy cover, the foundation’s logo embossed on the front, and handed it to him directly.

“Thank you,” he said. She was still holding onto the folder tightly, her eyes trained on it. When Louis’ own grip loosened her gaze met his.

Her fingers twitched before she let go, and she smoothed the front of her skirt where she stood. It seemed like the meeting was over. She asked, “Will you look at this as soon as you can?” 

“Of course.” 

She thanked him for his time, and the others rose from their seats. Priya escorted him to the lifts, and said they’d be in touch.

 

/

 

As soon as Louis could turned out to be not until after he’d driven back to the office, gone to a lunch meeting, and then found the time to put everything from his briefcase back in its place on his desk.

The navy blue folder stood out, and he was curious about Ms Twist’s insistence that he take it. It was the only thing she’d seemed to care about during the meeting. He would’ve looked at it anyway, regardless of what he felt about how likely it was that they would secure this gig. It was part of his job. 

He flipped it open and skimmed the first page. As he suspected, it seemed to be the same information they’d already received. There were some additions in there as he flipped the pages. A blueprint of The Savoy’s space, as well as actual pictures of previous years’ gala decorations and set ups. There were pages on the proposed theme, down to the staff outfits. It was an incredibly detailed brief, on quality glossy paper.

One of the sheets felt different, and though it was stuck towards the end, Louis pulled at the corner of it and it came loose entirely.

His eyes raked over it, his brow furrowing as he realized why Ms. Twist had been so intent that he look at the brief.

“Steve!” He called out just as he left his desk. He clutched at the paper that caught his eye, taking long steps towards Steve’s office. He stepped in and closed the door behind him, presenting the paper. “We’ve got a trojan.” 

 

/

 

“This was the only thing out of place?” Steve asked, referring to the sheet of paper he now held, as if he hadn’t himself looked over the folder for anything else that would stand out, or be out of place. 

“That’s it,” Louis said, drumming his fingers against his thigh. “I mean, it was weird that she gave me anything at all. Most of this stuff was in the RFP.”

They had done a precursory check to see if there was any code in the rest of the papers, but some were exact replicas of what they’d already received. No, it looked like a perfectly normal brief aside from that one page.

It was a one sheet with a few printed photos, one of a young man on his own, and one of him sandwiched between Ms. Twist and a young woman who looked to be around his age, an arm slung over each of their shoulders. He was identified as Harry Edward Styles, Ms. Twist’s twenty-four year old son. A handwritten plea for their assistance was scribbled at the bottom, looking rushed from the way the letters sloped.

Steve sucked his cheeks in, tapping his desk. “Since she met with you you’re taking the lead on this one until we know more. We need to know what the threat profile is. If he’s already in danger or imminent. Or completely preliminary.” 

Louis nodded along. These were all things that had come to his mind as well, but it felt good to have Steve’s back up. “Shall do.”

Louis was itching to move forward immediately, and judging from the veiled anxiety that Ms Twist’s had displayed, it seemed she was too. But since she’d gone through that whole charade to get them onboard it would be prudent to keep the secrecy going. She’d left what he assumed was her private cell phone number on the one-sheet, but there was no certainty that line was secure.

Instead, he called her office. As soon as he identified himself Priya put him through, and Ms. Twist sounded out of breath when she answered.

“Mr Tomlinson, I’m so glad you got in touch so quickly.”

“Yes, I realized I wasn’t certain if your situation was urgent?” He knew that the gala was months away, but he hoped she understood the subtext.

She was silent for a moment, and her words were measured when she spoke, “I don’t believe so, not _urgent_. But it would certainly ease my nerves to get this settled as soon as possible.”

“Of course.” He relaxed a little in his seat. There was time, for whatever she needed. “We can get started today, tonight, if you’d like.”

“Oh,” she said, a gasped breath prickling the receiver. “That’s very good.”

“I know your brief had a heavy emphasis on the aesthetics of the event, of course we want to make sure your security personnel fit the bill. We can have a line-up ready for you tonight, to choose.” Again, he hoped she could read between the lines.

“Right,” she sounded hesitant. “Tonight?”

“Yes. If you’d like to come to our offices tonight we can get started.”

“Okay,” she sounded more secure now. “Yes, I’ll see you tonight.”

 

/

 

Considering how jumpy Ms. Twist had been on the phone, and the apparent need for privacy, Louis asked Steve if he could use his office to confer with her. Despite deciding to meet in the evening and it being past seven when she arrived, there were plenty of people still milling about and working at their desks. 

She seemed a bit flushed, both her hands holding tightly onto her purse, shielding herself with it.

“I do hope I’m not actually here to pick out staff, I don’t think I’d have the stomach to line people up and treat them like cattle,” Ms. Twist said after she’d been let into the office. There was one of those soft laughs that followed, the polite cocktail party laugh that existed solely to ease the tension. 

“No, I understand you’re interested in our personal protection services for your son?” He lead her to Steve’s office and ushered her inside. She glanced up at the disco ball that hung from the ceiling, reflecting a gradient of blue along the walls. This wasn’t an office that was used for a lot of client meetings.

She didn’t seem to mind, taking a seat in the guest armchair, crossing her legs. Now that they were alone, behind closed doors, she seemed much less restrained now, and her nerves more surface level than before.

He had her brief in front of him, with only the Harry paper taken out. She glanced at it and nodded decisively. “I’d like my son to have a bodyguard, yes.”

“What is the threat assessment?”

Her grip around her purse tightened further, fingers pinching the leather until they paled. “You might think I’m being ridiculous.”

“Ms Twist, I assure you that any of your concerns will be taken seriously. You went through a lot of trouble to keep this matter private. I’ve no doubt you have some genuine concerns.”

She nodded, but the frown on her face was still present, unapologetic now. “Please call me Anne, though, it would make me feel better. You’re not my subordinate. I’m coming to you for your expertise.”

A small smile quirked at the edge of Louis’ lip. “Alright. Louis is fine for me as well, then. Please.”

She tucked her chin closer to herself as she took a deep breath, a shrug releasing a wave of tension over her figure. “My daughter’s flat was broken into. She’s the girl in the photo,” she said, rising from her seat just an inch to point towards the sheet in front of Louis

Louis nodded for her to continue. It was essential to get her version first, before asking questions and derailing her narrative.

She continued after training her eyes on her lap. “Nothing was taken. I don’t think she would’ve even noticed, honestly. But they emailed me pictures of the inside of her flat. The pictures were from different days, too.” Her voice cracked at that. “So I know it must have something to do with me.” 

“That sounds unsettling,” he said, steady and unwavering. 

“Yes, it really was. That was a couple of months ago. She already has security, I set that up immediately.”

“Has your son also been…” he thought of what the right word might be it wasn’t a physical attack, or necessarily an articulated threat, “intimidated in such a way?”

She shook her head. “No. Obviously we’ve become quite high profile since… Well since my marriage,” she followed this with a sigh. “ _I’ve_ received threats over the years, of course. My children have been left out of it until now. He has been in Canada for the past year, and he’s insisted that he’s been safe because of the distance but--” She shook her head. “He’s been home over the summer and I love him, but he’s so careless. And now that he’s going back and can’t be looked after by my people...I don’t think he’s safe at all.”

“So this would be an overseas assignment?” Louis asked, just to be sure. This was turning into more of an enterprise than he could’ve expected.

“Yes. You do those, don’t you? I thought I heard you did those.” There was a hint of worry in her voice, as if she thought she’d stumble at the finish line.

He nodded easily, probably too quickly, giving away that it wasn’t standard. Certainly they traveled with their principals, but they rarely had clients that were positioned out of the country full-time. 

“That’s good. Good. I’m not sure I’d know where to start if I had to go over there to find someone. I don’t think Harry would care to look for security for himself, either. His building has a concierge, which he thinks is more than enough.” She shook her head. “I don’t think he realizes that while he was here, with us, he was under a lot of supervision. He was safe. But now he’ll just become an open target.”

“It can be difficult for some to imagine that there’s people out there who harbour ill will towards them. Especially if you’re young.” He always felt a bit weird saying that, since he wasn’t even thirty yet himself, but he’d been exposed to more things than most people his age. 

“I think he just doesn’t realize. If they used Gemma to rattle me… I’m sure whoever is trying to get to me considers him fair game as well.” A shudder passed over her and she squeezed her fingers around her arm.

“I have to ask this, considering the secrecy that was involved in approaching us: are you concerned that there’s a breach in your circle?”

She seemed to mull it over. “No. I suppose I wouldn’t know, but no. My daughter has a separate security detail because she wanted a female bodyguard. And the ones we use now don’t employ any women.”

The question wasn’t asked, but Louis still said, “We do have female officers on staff.”

“Well, I don’t know what Harry would prefer.” She ducked her head. “Gemma quite likes them, but the company doesn’t do overseas assignments so I had to start searching all over again. I think something discreet would be best, however.”

“We do covert and low profile assignments as well.”

“Oh!” She seemed somewhat surprised, but pleased. “That’s great. I just don’t want him to feel awkward. The less disruptive, the better. And if he’s not on the radar of… whoever is doing this then it’s even better if his security is discreet.”

“Absolutely. We can have someone pose as a co-worker--”

“He’s in grad school.”

Louis tilted his head to the side, processing the information “--or a fellow student. That might work even better, actually. It won’t look like he has security with him, because we won’t _look_ like security. But we’ll be paying attention, being prepared.”

“Okay,” she said and nodded. For the first time since he’d met her, it looked like she might start to relax in her skin for more than a few seconds at a time. Her cheeks filled out as she processed what he’d said. 

 

/

 

The meeting was long, but productive. Louis still had work ahead of him before he could leave the office. He wandered into the office kitchen, looking for some catering leftovers, and he got lucky with a chicken wrap and a small bag of crisps. 

He still had some tea in his mug, so he got comfortable with his snack at his desk before getting to work.

There were a lot of forms to go through to create a project presentation. It was a particularly complicated case, and the principal client hadn’t even been part of the process yet. It was a challenge to create a case profile and security needs. 

It wasn’t just what Anne Twist wanted, it was also about the responsibilities that would be place on Neon and the team lead’s shoulders. Since it was an overseas assignment, skeleton crew would be the most economic and doable version. There’s also the fact that discretion was high on the list of demands. A visible protection detail would put more of a spotlight on her son, and likely put him in more danger.

And Harry Styles wasn’t in the public eye, which meant it would be harder to secure and predict his every move. Sure, he would have a school schedule to abide to, and maybe some regular weekly commitments. But none of those were public events in places that would adapt to their security needs. They would need to be highly flexible in order to adjust to the rhythm of his life. Many of the locations they went to wouldn’t be able to be pre-cleared, there would be no way to make sure each location fit their security demands. 

There was a lot they could do, though, even with a skeleton crew. They could familiarize themselves with the lecture halls and classrooms of the university; someone could sit in on the session previous to Harry’s and ensure the premises were fully vacated and secure before Harry entered. It would be discreet and would involve very little disruption to the class. This could probably be discussed with the university security staff, he doubted they would disagree with something that would require little work for them 

And of course they could get in touch with Harry’s building security. They could do background checks on the regular people in Harry’s life to get a good idea who he was surrounded by. Plus, a local car service could be put on retainer...

Louis rubbed the back of his neck before stretching it, dipping his head back and staring at the ceiling. He’d been on a roll, the ideas leapfrogging onto the page. Yeah, his ideas might work pretty well, actually.

He spotted the cut of a shadow on the floor out of the corner of his eye as it approached him.

“Meeting go well?” Steve asked as he leaned over Louis’ desk. His eyes raked over the papers splayed out in front of him.

“Yeah, I’m just working on the report now. Meeting with the principal is tomorrow if we can get ready by then.”

Steve seemed pleased, not a hint of skepticism detectable. “What’s left to do?” 

“Printing out some floor plans and maps, find contact information for all the principals known haunts.”

“Great. Have you picked your crew?”

Louis’ head tipped back further, tendons in his neck going stiff as he frowned at Steve in confusion. “My crew?”

Steve raised his eyebrows as he scrutinized Louis. “Did you not want this mission?”

“No, I’d love to do it. It just turned out to be much bigger than just an event, I wasn’t sure if you still wanted me--” he interrupted himself, not wanting to talk himself out of the gig.

“You’ve done a perfectly thorough job thus far. And you’ve been an excellent assist with other long term principals. I don’t why you shouldn’t take the lead on this one.”

“Okay.” _Wow._ “I appreciate it.”

“Great,” Steve said, tapping the papers with two fingers. “Drop me off copies of all of these before you go. And your staffing requests.”

Louis agreed as he watched Steve walk away, about ready to jump out of his desk with excitement. An overseas solo assignment. He hit the fucking jackpot. 

 

/

 

Louis had thought Anne’s enthusiasm would be an indication of Harry’s own willing participation, but he was dead wrong.

They were meeting at the head office of the Twist Foundation again, this time Louis had Geoff in tow. Neon would still cover the upcoming gala security to maintain their cover, and Geoff would take over those responsibilities. He wore his glasses and his most serious face, but Louis knew he would’ve preferred being part of the team sent to Toronto.

But this was still something, and he was their most experienced event security coordinator. And should there be a need to add to their crew, Geoff could always join them later. Something that was a bit of a consolation prize for him. 

But Geoff remained professional and eager as he shook Priya’s hand upon meeting her. She sported the same dazzling smile that she had when she first met Louis She greeted him as well, same breath of charm directed at Louis. 

They were led a different way than the last time Louis had been there, down into a corridor with no offices in sight, and upon their first turn they were met with Anne. She guided Louis elsewhere while Geoff continued on. . 

The room he was led to looked like an abandoned office. A desk with two chairs, a laptop stand but no computer, and the whiteboard contained faded writing. Harry was already seated with his back to the door, but even in profile, Louis recognized him. He looked far more serious than the photos he’d seen, the stubborn shade of a frown between his brows and not a hint of a smile on his face 

Anne said, “This is our out-of-towners office. It only gets used when they’re here. Since Harry is in from Toronto I thought it was suitable.” She laughed at her cleverness, a hand pressed against Harry’s back.

“Yes, I guess this counts,” Harry said, and his voice was much lower and slower than Louis expected. He was dressed quite casually as well, loose open shirt, faded band shirt underneath. If Louis hadn’t known that he was a student already he certainly would’ve guessed it. It didn’t seem like he was involved with the corporate family interests either, not used to commanding an office, which would explain why he’d taken a seat in the guest chair.

“This is Louis from Neon Security,” Anne introduced him, warmly. She was tactile, a hand on Louis’ shoulder as if she were offering him up to Harry for inspection.

Louis smiled and nodded, reaching out his hand before taking his seat. Harry’s look up at him was carefully blank, an attempt to hide his feelings, but Louis could tell there was reluctance there. The handshake was perfunctory and brief. 

That was fine. They didn’t need to be friends and they had a lot of things to go through, after all so  
Louis got comfortable in his chair and pulled his folders out. Anne had already looked everything over, but Harry needed to approve of the plan as well. 

Harry took the folder and flipped it open. It seemed like another excuse for him not to look at Louis, his frown now directed at the papers. From the way his eyes moved over the page Louis guessed Harry was actually reading the documents, which was something, at least. 

“Well,” said Anne, clapping her hands together as she looked between the two of them. “I think you two are fine on your own, yes?” She didn’t let them answer, a quick eager nod following as she turned to leave. “I’ll be down the hall, thank you again, Louis.”

“No problem,” Louis assured her. She squeezed Harry’s shoulder, a gesture that carried weight in this moment, and he glanced at her before she left them alone, the door clicking shut softly.

“As you can see I’ve created some preliminary plans with the information Anne gave me,” Louis said, as Harry’s silence continued, the weight of dismissal heavy in the air.

“It says you’re going to move in with me,” Harry said, head still bent over the papers. 

“Well, not exactly. Your mother has requested a full service security detail, which means around the clock surveillance. I understand you have a guest room in your flat? The agent on duty can use that as their space and field office.”

“That sounds like moving in.” 

Louis brought his hands together, palms and fingers flush. “It would only be the agent on duty. Your schedule is more flexible than most of our clients. Ultimately it would be less of a nuisance for you to have us present in your residence. No need to call and wait for us to get there before you can leave the house.” He paused, and weighed the pros and cons of his next words. “I know break-ins are a particular concern of your mother’s.”

“Those happened when Gemma wasn’t home,” Harry countered. As if the idea of someone crossing the threshold of his home illicitly didn’t scare him. He put on a good front. And Louis wasn’t going to dignify it with a response.

Harry stretched his hands out, a twitch in his jaw, challenge clear in his eyes as he eyed Louis top to bottom. “You’re the main _officer_ aren’t you? And how would you address a break in, then?” 

“I can assure you that I’m perfectly equipped to address any threats that may come your way,” Louis said with a very practiced smile. He might’ve flexed his arms where he sat. He might not have the traditional built of a security officer, but this was a case where it would be to his advantage. Plus, as he continued, “Avoiding situations is more productive than reacting to a dangerous one. That is what we specialize in. We’re more than just a barrier between threats and yourself.”

“Is that your way of saying you haven’t dealt with any threats?” Harry’s eyebrows were raised, insistent, and he was meeting Louis’ eyes for once.

At least Harry was being honest and direct about his concerns. It was perfectly normal to be curious about someone’s capabilities before hiring them, and it’s not like a bodyguard could be taken for a test drive. But still, the vein in his forehead was throbbing. He wasn’t keen on having to convince Harry that he needed help, that he might be in danger. 

“It’s my way of saying that me and my team have diverted and avoided many threats. Our focus has always been on being adaptable. But if your concern is my ability to hold my own in a physical fight...” Louis paused and leaned forward, elbows carrying his weight as they slid onto the desk. “I’m very well versed in combat sports, and I am licensed to carry a firearm. There is a lot of red tape to get a license to carry in Canada but if it would make you feel safer we can prioritize that process.”

Harry studied him carefully, and finally said, “I don’t like guns.” 

“Neither do I,” Louis said, holding eye contact with Harry. He made a note that firearms wouldn’t be necessary. “Eliminating that aspect certainly saves us some time.”

“What is the timeline, exactly?”

“Well, Anne told me you were planning on returning just at the start of term?”

“Three weeks from now.”

Louis nodded, jotting down the information. “We can be there in two weeks. Which gives us a week to set up our command center--” Harry’s frown deepened, and Louis smiled weakly, corrected, “--our office, essentially. Get our contacts and gear and be ready for when you arrive.”

“So I’ve got three weeks to get used to saying goodbye to my personal life and my privacy.” 

“Anne said you’re being watched by her detail while you’re in town?” Louis asked for confirmation, and Harry snorted.

“They don’t live with me.”

“Right.” Tapping his pen against the table, Louis noted that Harry hadn’t re-opened the folder and seemed to want to leave. He seemed resigned, but there was no point in indulging his dramatics. If he didn’t think it was for the best, nothing Louis said would change his mind. “I still need quite a bit of information from you. I expect that Anne isn’t entirely familiar with your schedule, or who your your friends are.”

Harry’s silence was followed by him sinking deeper into his chair, low enough that he could tilt his head against its back. 

Louis continued, “We need all of that information. Walk us through a regular day, any recurring events, classes, book club. We’ll also need information for all of your associates.”

“Associates?” Harry placed the paper on the table and slid it towards Louis. “I don’t have _associates_. Business or otherwise.” He was as cold as he’d been all morning.

“Excuse me, force of habit,” Louis said, and gestured with his hand to keep things light. “In your case we need the names of your friends, professors, acquaintances. Gym instructors. Study group members. Etcetera,” he finished with a flourish. 

He was ready to jot down any information Harry would give him, pen perched above his papers. Instead Harry’s mouth twisted with scorn and he asked, “Why d’you keep saying we? There’s only you here.”

“I may be the only person present currently, but this is a team effort. I’ll be joined by two fellow officers in supporting you day to day.” Harry’s eyes twitched, like he was holding back from rolling them. Louis leaned back in his seat, added, “As I said earlier,, we take this situation quite seriously, even if you don’t.” 

“I’ll also need you to memorize these phone numbers,” Louis continued, handing Harry a business card with his direct number, as well as Steve’s direct line printed on them. 

Harry glanced at the card before making to shove it in his pocket, and Louis stopped him, grabbing it from his hands. “No, don’t save the card. Don’t save the numbers to your phone. _Memorize_ them. In an emergency situation it’s probable you won’t be able to rely on your phone. You need to know how to contact us.”

Harry sighed. “This seems excessive.”

“You are aware of what happened to your sister, aren’t you?” He really was stubborn.

“I’m not talking about Gemma. I’m talking about for me. She works for Twist, she’s here, she has a profile. Could be some angry coworker who got passed up for a promotion who wanted to shake her up. She should absolutely have protection,” Harry said, resolutely, his posture straightening. “And I hope they find who’s behind the break ins, and the creepy emails. But I’m not her. I don’t even live in England. I have nothing to do with my stepdad’s company or mum’s foundation.”

Louis folded his arms despite himself, aware as he did it that it was a poor choice in body language, but he just couldn’t help himself. “You might think your mother is overreacting but we don’t sign on for jobs where there isn’t a credible threat.”

“Really? I would’ve thought all you needed was a cheque that didn’t bounce.”

Louis bit the inside of his cheek. If this is what Harry thought, he couldn’t change his mind, and he wasn’t particularly keen on trying either. 

Still, he said, “The person who broke into your sister’s flat did so on multiple occasions without leaving a trace behind. The email they sent to your mother could not be traced. This is someone who is serious about what they’re doing, and they are thorough. Just because they haven’t targeted you yet doesn’t mean that they won’t.” 

Harry pulled his hands into his lap as he studied Louis’ face carefully. No doubt trying to tell if he was lying, if he was exaggerating matters. 

“Mr Styles,” he said, adopting the formality. “I won’t work for your mother if you don’t want to work with me. I’m not interested in facing an enemy on two fronts.”

“So?”

“So, you can tell me you don’t want me on your case and I’ll reject your mother’s offer. No matter how big that offer is.” Harry was silent, as if he knew Louis wasn’t done talking despite the pause. Clever boy. “But just because I’m out of the equation doesn’t mean you’ll be without security. She’ll find someone else.”

“Maybe someone else would be better,” Harry said, and it came out petulantly, like it was the only thing he could think of to say.

Louis laughed at that, a genuine burst of it, because the predictability of that counter statement _was_ absurd. It was certainly true that there might be someone out there that would be better, technically speaking. But he seriously doubted that Harry’s issue was with him or their team specifically. It seemed more to do with the whole concept of being watched and the expected reluctance to believe he might be in danger since he hadn’t been targeted specifically. 

Harry’s look was defiant, seemingly asking for a rebuttal. But there wasn’t anything Louis could say that would counter all of Harry’s hypotheticals. People rarely believed they were at risk until they were actively threatened, boundaries ignored. And the whole point of Anne Twist contracting his team now was to avoid such a situation at all.

He closed with, “It’s your call.”

Harry didn’t speak for the rest of the meeting, and Louis didn’t make an effort to cater to him. He only looked at him when seeking confirmation of a piece of information that Anne relayed, and when asking for further details to be sent to him. Harry only responded with curt nods, his eyes narrowed all the same. Louis wasn’t going to try to persuade Harry of anything, didn’t want to be branded as manipulative or exploitative. He was neither of those things. And while he was going to do what he could and construct a detailed plan, he meant what he said. If Harry decided he didn’t want Louis’ services, he would step aside.

Louis went straight home after the meeting, choosing to work on adapting his plan at his home office. With two desk lamps on he was lulled out of his work persona, and into himself. Which is when the tendrils of doubt and second guesses started to creep in. 

All of this work could be for nothing, he thought, even as he added in his notes into the existing brief. 

But he needn’t have worried: his laptop pinged with an email from Harry. The encrypted attachment contained all the information he’d requested that Harry compile for him. So he’d gotten through to him somehow. Or Harry decided he didn’t want to go through more meetings with more strangers and decided to settle for Louis.

Whatever the reason was, he couldn’t contain the broadness of his smile when he forwarded the information to Niall and Liam, subject line reading, ‘Two Weeks til departure if you’re in,’ as an official invite for them to join the Styles security detail.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was going to post this on friday but figured why wait since it's done? ;) at the speed i'm writing now i should be able to do a weekly update, so i'm hoping to stick to that!
> 
> there is also now [a tumblr post](https://turnyourankle.tumblr.com/post/182323657275/cut-your-teeth-on-my-heart-by-turnyourankle), so if you enjoy please feel free to reblog ❤

Louis hadn’t been able to go to university, deferring his admission when things got difficult at home and his mum couldn’t work as much anymore. He wanted to help support his siblings, and couldn’t justify eating up a large part of their savings to go to school and leave his family with nothing. But this trip to Toronto with Liam and Niall; it felt a lot like what Louis imagined studying abroad would feel like. Except with much better accommodations, and people he was already friends with.

The accomodation in question was a furnished downtown rental, marketed to visiting professionals. It was decorated appropriately. Harmless and without much personality. The property manager that escorted them up tried to sell them on the buttercream coloured walls, as if they hadn’t already signed the lease. 

Louis had been ignoring her since they’d shook hands and her smile had been as plastic as the nails she now drummed on the kitchen island. 

The three of them let her babble though, allowing her to explain expected quiet hours and no smoking and pet deposits. All information they already had and was irrelevant to them. But she had her spiel and was sticking to it.

Niall came to life when he spotted the telly that came with the place, though, reverently laying his hands on it. 

The property manager perked up at his enthusiasm. “Yes! We are aware professionals need to enjoy their downtime so we have quality electronics. High speed internet, of course. Basic cable, but you can add on--”

“I might not need to bring in another screen with this darling,” Niall said, interrupting her diatribe. Louis was grateful for that. He whistling when he turned it on. “Nice resolution on this.”

“--Aou can add on cable packages if you like, great for sports and those special effects movies,” she continued, undeterred. The pitch must go on.

There was a binder perched upright on the kitchen counter with the rental company’s logo on the front. Louis thought its presence was self explanatory, really; it likely contained more details about what she was telling them. Liam was attentive, bless him, as she dissected the contents of the binder. He even picked it up and rifled through it. He really seemed to care about all the details, which is exactly why Louis asked him to come with. He needed someone like Liam on his team. Especially when Louis felt like he was going to collapse from heatstroke. 

If there’s one thing Louis hadn’t expected from Canada in late August it was _heat_ , and he wasn’t dressed for it. While his hoodie had been great to keep him warm on the flight, and comforting to burrow his face into, it had turned into an oppressive weight as soon as they’d set foot outside the airport. The brightness of the sun had burned his eyes, no sunglasses to shield them because he’d always done without. Why would he have thought they’d be necessary now?

He watched the property manager explain to Niall how their air conditioning worked, setting it at a cooler temperature than the twenty-three degrees it was on, but Louis didn’t want to wait for the air to cool down. 

The back of his neck still prickled with beads of sweat, his jeans -- why did he wear _jeans_? -- felt suffocating. He needed to pick himself a bedroom and get changed, and since the others were keeping track of everything else, he could certainly be excused.

The closest door was a loo, but the next one was a bedroom, and he stepped inside.  
Niall seemed to sense Louis’ intention, and as soon as Louis had pushed the door closed the crack of Niall’s voice could be heard, “I should have first pick, shouldn’t I?”

Niall rapped his knuckles against the open door before stepping in and taking in the room. Louis hadn’t even paid attention until now, watching Niall as he took in their surroundings. It was neutrally decorated; a blown up photo of the cityscape hanging above the bed, as well as an abstract portrait on the opposite side. 

“Why?’ Liam asked, as Louis flung his suitcase onto the bed. The property manager must’ve left if Liam was getting involved. He didn’t care, he just had to get out of his sweat damp clothes, the fabric suffocating his pores. 

Niall addressed Liam, who was still in the kitchen, through the door, “‘Cause I’ll be at the flat more than you two. Means I need to be comfortable.”

“I don’t care which room is mine,” Louis said. Off with his shirt, off with the denim plastered to his skin. “Just want to get changed.”

Niall walked over to the window, pulling the sheer drapes just enough so that he could peer out. Louis suspected all Niall could see from there was high rises, rather than the lake they’d seen on the drive from the airport or even the cityscape.

“Alright, you can keep this one,” Niall determined, but still took a seat on the bed, half laying down and leaning on his elbow. He watched Louis dig into his suitcase with curiousity.

“You’re gonna dirty up my bed?” Louis said, tossing his shirt in Niall’s face. He caught it easily, fists closing over the crumpled fabric. 

“I can guarantee I carry less bacteria than that filthy suitcase of yours,” Niall responded, throwing the shirt back at Louis. He didn’t care to catch it, and just ducked, leaving it to land on the floor. Niall _tsk_ ed with disappointment. “It spent eight hours in a cargo hold last cleaned God knows when. Touched by so many strange hands…” He shuddered exaggeratedly, grimacing at Louis’ suitcase. As if the mysterious bacteria would leap off of it, onto him.

“And yet there you are, sharing a bed with my filthy suitcase.”

Even with half the contents spilling out of his suitcase Louis still struggled to find something weather appropriate. He hadn’t brought a lot of clothes with him, figuring those would be easy to stock up while they were here. He had plenty of pants, socks, even shoes, but nothing summery. They’d come for the fall semester; how was he supposed to know this type of heat was to be expected? It was supposed to be cold here. Igloos on the street, and all that. 

Niall seemed to sense Louis’ predicament, as pants and socks piled onto the bed, not accompanied by any suitable clothes for him to wear now. 

“Did you not bring any clothes, Tommo? That’s not like you at all,” Niall said with a squint. 

“Didn’t check the weather.” Louis bit the inside of his cheeks. He also brought a few vests to sleep in, he knew he did. Impatiently, he turned the suitcase over entirely, a mishmash of things cascading out onto the bed. Niall had no shame, picking at the pieces. 

Niall seemed to have a light-bulb moment, using one of Louis’ rolled up pairs of socks to hit his wrist, trying to get his attention. “You using this as an excuse to restock your wardrobe? That it?”

Louis shook his head. His fingers finally grasped a threadbare piece of fabric, and he pulled at it triumphantly. Fucking finally. “You know the whole point of this assignment is to be covert, right? I can’t be covert if I stick out like a sore thumb.” The vest slipped easily over Louis’ head, and he felt instantly better, although a shower wouldn’t be terrible either. 

“Nah, you’ve got Liam for that,” Niall said with a wicked grin.

Louis just shook his head, laughter pulling at his mouth. He waited for Liam to appear, and like clockwork, he made his presence known, stood just outside the doorway.

“Are you guys talking about me?” Liam had a very serious frown on, the kind that was so serious it was blatantly fake.

“You’re late to the party, Li,” Niall said, patting the bed. Liam didn’t seem particularly amused. “Are we allowed to have pillow fights or is that a girls only thing?”

“That’s a _nobody_ thing, Nialler,” Louis said with a snort. Niall just shrugged.

To Liam, Niall said, “Louis was just telling me about how different Canadian fashion is from what he’s used it. He’s gonna find himself a Mountie uniform just to fit in.”

“I couldn’t, that would be quite illegal,” Louis said seriously. 

Liam seemed less than amused. “Yes, this definitely seems like what we should be discussing right now. Louis’ role playing outfits.” Niall snorted, and clapped his hands with glee. Liam added, “And it would probably even be illegal in that context.”

Louis’ attention was already on Liam, but his tone turned curious when he spoke to him. “Did you pick a room already?”

“No preference, I was thinking we could set up some house rules before we really settle in though?” Liam said, kind enough to not comment on the mess that Louis had already made by first upturning the contents of his suitcase, and pushing a great deal of those contents to the floor as he’d searched for something to wear.

“Sure.” Louis was comfortable now, in his cut off sweats and loose vest, he definitely wouldn’t mind letting the air conditioning blast him until he shivered and was actually tempted to go outside. He’d have to at some point. 

“This really is like going back to uni,” Niall commented with a wide grin. “Rule number one: you can be as messy as you want in your own rooms, keep the common areas fucking clean,” he declared.

Liam had found a notepad and a sharpie -- always prepared -- ready to write it down.

“Isn’t there a cleaning service?” Louis asked, and Liam nodded.

“First Wednesday of the month. But we should still try to be organized out here. It’s basically our office. Just like the room we’ll be using in Harry’s flat will be,” Liam said, as he still took the time to spell out the No Mess rule with very careful calligraphy, so no one could argue that it wasn’t legible.

Louis didn’t miss the subtext of that comment; that their designated room, or camp as Louis had started to refer to it in his head would have to be kept in tip-top shape as well. Louis did fine staying tidy at the office, even his home office was pristine, but he’d never blended his personal self with his work self to this degree before, so it would be a challenge. He was reminded again of his inexperience, and how incredibly fortunate he’d been that Steve had given him the chance to prove himself on such a serious assignment.

“Right. Well. If this is an office I think rule number two should be no visitors allowed.”

“That’s a good one, actually,” Liam said approvingly. 

“Seems obvious,” Niall said, now keeping his hands busy by juggling with Louis’ balled up socks. Whenever he dropped a pair he left it be and picked another one up. Certainly seemed like he didn’t have an issue messing up someone else’s place.

“Yeah, as does, ‘clean up after yourself’ but that’s on the list.”

“Alright, add it.” Niall rolled his eyes, said, “No hot sauces allowed in the fridge.”

“Why?” Louis didn’t try to hide the twist of his mouth, the furrowing of his brow as he squinted at Niall.

Niall pressed his hand against his chest. “S’bad for my reflux.”

“But you don’t have to use them.”

“How am I supposed to resist if they’re _right there_ , begging to be tasted?” 

“We can keep them in my room, Liam, s’fine. I won’t be there when you might want to use them ‘neway. And we both know Niall’s not gonna want to step into a biohazardous zone.”

“You’re not wrong,” Niall said, but it sounded more like ‘good compromise’ to Louis. He’d take the compliment on his logic, even if it was unspoken and rolled into an insult. 

Liam weighted the sharpie between his fingers, tipping it this way and that. His thinking was plain on his face, eyes unseeing as he seemed to be considering his words carefully. Eventually, he said, “We should have a shared document where we go over everything, since we won’t be able to really discuss things…” 

“That’s more of a work thing than a house rule.” 

Liam shrugged. “I just want to make sure we do this right. There’s a lot of firsts for all of us. I’d feel better if we discussed this now.”

Louis was torn. It made him feel a bit better that he wasn’t the only one who felt out of his depth. But at the same time knowing _Liam_ , the guy who’d aced every test simulation they’d been put through, the teddy bear who was good with children and with old class people, wasn’t brimming with confidence, felt ominous.

“Okay, we can go over our work protocols too.”

Liam’s features lightened up, and Niall didn’t waste any time getting off the bed. Louis wanted to take his freshly vacated spot, take one of the few opportunities to nap before their hectic schedules kicked in. But it was best to start right away and get on top of things. His skin was already starting to prickle from the air conditioned chill, waking him up a bit from his jet lag. 

The smell of coffee wafted into the room; Liam must’ve put some on, ready to dig into the meat of their case. Coffee and the artificial cool of the flat would do wonders to keep him alert as they started deconstructing their duties. 

 

/

 

As their tech liaison, Niall’s responsibilities were cut and dry. He had a list of tech he needed that he couldn’t bring with him, and he just needed to find the right price point and availability. GPS trackers, surveillance cameras with live feeds. Concealable mics. Printers, and SIM cards, and spare phones in case they needed them.

Liam was going to take care of securing and vetting the car service and drivers they would use, as well as work with Niall to equip the trackers and perform background checks. He also offered to establish contact with local law enforcement, to make sure things would run smoothly should they ever need their assistance. They knocked on wood every time they discussed it, but it was necessary to be fully prepared for all contingencies.

But Liam also got stuck with an unplanned project. Louis wanted all of three of them to be comfortable in the city on foot, on public transit. They might drive Harry around, but they needed to be able to orient themselves in the city, should they have to. And studying maps wouldn’t be enough for that.

Niall was incredibly excited by this prospect, even though he wasn’t really going to be in the field, he wanted to participate in this. “Liam!” He exclaims, “What’s your fake geek sport thing? You can make us a course or something.”

Louis squinted at Liam, waiting for an explanation or a protest. 

Liam asked, “Orienteering?” 

“Yes! We can make it an orienteering contest or whatever.”

“What?” Louis asked, at a loss as to what the two of them were talking about.

Liam refilled his coffee cup, sighing. “It’s a real sport, alright. I did it when I was growing up. You learn how to orient yourself in the wild.”

“Oh, that sounds useful actually.”

“Yeah,” Niall slapped Louis’ arm. “We can have courses to follow through the city. Good way to sightsee, as well.”

“Can you do that? You said the wild, but does it work in the city?” 

Liam shrugged. “Yeah I don’t see why not. In the wild you relied more on your compass, here there’s always landmarks and street signs. Which should just make it easier.” He’d already pulled out his laptop though, and after a short second of intent typing he looked back at Louis. “I can probably randomize a few courses. Enough that we cover most of the city.”

Niall slapped his hand on the counter, grin wide. “It’ll be like ‘The Amazing Race’ without all the gross foods.”

“Perfect.” 

Louis’ own plate was full. Not just because he was the lead, the point person for all their security contacts so far, but also because he felt the need to prove himself. He’d never been lead on home soil, let alone another country. He couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong. 

Number one on his to-do list was casing the university campus. He had contacted their security people in advance and was given a lot of free rein. He’d asked for floor plans of the buildings Harry would frequent most often and a tour by campus staff. 

It was like getting an advanced campus tour along with a crash course in the campus safety protocols. He only got to go through a handful of buildings since Harry’s graduate classes took place in a concentrated area, but he wanted to explore the rest of the campus. 

It was a mishmash of old and new buildings, expanses of fields where people camped out with books and cups of Starbucks, as well meandering trails that gave the illusion of being shortcuts between buildings. They weren’t though, they were roundabout roads that seemed more concerned with taking the scenic route over efficiency.

The tour wasn’t all that was on Louis’ schedule though; he and Liam needed to visit the registrar’s office to pick up student ID cards that they’d negotiated for themselves. It would allow the same access to campus facilities as Harry had, and they also served as an endorsement from the university, should they have to prove their involvement to outsiders.

Despite the term not having started, the campus still had plenty of people milling about, which gave Louis a great opportunity to observe the crowds and figure out the best way to blend in.

Niall might’ve joked about him wanting to rebuild his wardrobe, but it wasn’t too far from the truth. He got the reason wrong, though. It wasn’t an excuse to get more clothes; it was about getting into character. Louis was supposed to blend in, be as invisible and unnoticeable as possible. The best way to do that, he felt, was to play that part to the fullest. Which included getting new clothes. Clothes make the man, and all that. 

The campus bookstore was having a sidewalk sale, no doubt because campus was only slowly starting to fill up. There were folding tables with books, but a few hangers of clothes as well. He found an acceptable sweatshirt, and went inside to pick up some track pants and a shirt. 

From a brief walk from college to college, it seemed like the kind of place where students were unafraid to boast their association to the university. So these branded clothes were a good start to Louis getting comfortable with his cover. He’d seen a few students milling about in what looked like pyjamas, so he suspected he’d have to downplay his style by quite a bit. He hoped the graduate crowd had a better sense of fashion. 

 

/ 

 

At Liam’s suggestion, the lads pooled together a percentage of their per diem and put it towards food. That way they could avoid having duplicate condiments and spending outrageous sums on single portion meals. 

Their diets didn’t overlap much outside of takeout, which is what Louis and Niall seemed to prefer as Liam filled the fridge with sprouts and bone broth. At least the coconut milk Liam bought worked well with Louis’ cereal. It had served them well over their week of preparation and groundwork. The flat itself remained as anonymous as when they’d moved in, but their constant ribbing and genuine affection for each other had made it feel more homey. And a large part of that was their shared meal time, even as they ate three different things.

Their disparate tastes only became an issue on the eve of Harry’s arrival. They’d decided they needed to have a team dinner as a trio. Niall had even stocked up on local beers, the bottles crowding the fridge. No project kick off was complete without a buzz, he’d said.

But they couldn’t decide what to eat and who should cook. 

“Niall’s food is too bland,” Louis pointed out.

“Excuse me? Your pancakes looked like shredded cardboard.” Niall had cracked open a beer already, waving it in Louis’ direction. If this was an indication of how their team work would go, it was bad. 

“But they taste amazing. Doesn’t matter what it looks like when it’s all going the same place.”

“I can make dinner,” Liam said. 

One corner of Niall’s mouth pulled down, his chin pressed against his neck. At least Niall and Louis were united on this front. Neither of them wanted sauteed dandelion and chickpea patties with a side of tomato jam.

“How about a side salad, Liam? Spag bol should be fine.” It was an easy meal, a bit too hearty for the season, he thought, but they had enough ingredients to pull it off. 

“And you’ll be bowling the water, right? Not touching the sauce?” Niall teased, just as he pulled a box of spaghetti from a cupboard.

“No, you’re the one who can’t season anything. So spaghetti is your duty.” Louis fake whispered in Niall’s direction, “You’re supposed to put salt in the water, in case you forgot.”

“Ha, ha.” Niall’s objection contained very little heat, and Liam hummed as he stacked his arms with vegetables from the fridge.

The three of them working around each other, bickering in the kitchen, arguing about whose recipe was best, reminded Louis of being at home with his family. He was grateful for the similarity, for the camaraderie. 

Niall convinced him to add red wine to the sauce, and Liam insisted that sliced strawberries would make their salad pop. He agreed to it all, happy enough to have this moment of normalcy before their assignment split them up. Sent them on their lonely road. 

His mind only wandered for a brief moment. Watching bubbles break the surface of the sauce, he was gripped by a sense of doom for the next day, the next weeks and months. He allowed himself a brief five second freakout, counting down and everything, before he let go.

Worrying about it wasn’t going to make it better. They were prepared. They knew the city inside and out, and they were a good team. 

 

/

 

It wasn’t that Louis expected his and Harry’s relationship to have thawed since they’d last seen each other. Their meeting was their first and last one, and despite Harry ultimately deciding that he would accept Louis’ offer it was still unclear how he felt about the whole thing.

Louis still expected a bit more than what Niall and he got when Harry opened the door to his flat. Harry’s look didn’t reveal any lingering disdain, but it also wasn’t particularly welcoming.  
Then again, despite looking put together with his tight white jeans on and fingers littered with rings, his eyes were nearly closed, tiredness lining his mouth.

Harry even had a pair of sunglasses perched atop his head, that he pulled back down to cover his eyes again as he moved out of the way to let the two of them in. 

Louis hadn’t even had a chance to say hello. His fingers longed for a cigarette. His mouth was still dry from the one he had earlier, but if this is what he was dealing with he could’ve used a second. 

“Alright. Good luck, mate,” Niall said with a hearty clap on Louis’ shoulder. Niall didn’t wait to be ushered in, simply stepped over the threshold and found a spot where he could unpack his kit. 

It could just be jetlag, Louis told himself. He hadn’t exactly been at his best when they’d just arrived, either. They hadn’t given Harry any time to get back in the swing of things. He’d been accosted from the word go.

When Louis stepped fully inside he squinted, the brightness of the flat eating at his field of vision. Liam had solved the problem by keeping his back to the floor to windows. Windows with no curtains to filter the merciless sunlight. 

“Hey,” Liam said with a brief nod. He was biting his lips as he studied something on his open laptop. Since Liam was the point person for the car service, he was sent to pick Harry up from the airport and do the first run. In the little extra time he’d had at the loft he’d already set up office on the kitchen island. 

“Are you sure this is best?” Liam asked. His nod towards the upstairs bedroom, where Harry had ascended to, was enough for Louis to know what he was asking about. He didn’t need to ask, he knew it was about their plan to install their in-house office in the guest bedroom, and let Harry have his open, lofted bedroom to himself. 

They’d known the layout of the place, but seeing it made it all the more a security nightmare. Having Harry easily accessible should someone break in, and whoever was on duty locked away behind closed doors where they likely wouldn’t be able to hear attempted security breaches? It seemed like a bad idea all around. 

But this what what had been decided, a non-negotiable aspect of Harry’s agreement to have them install themselves in his flat full time.

Louis could only scratch the back of his head. Harry was up there, no doubt listening in to their conversation. “We don’t want to disrupt his routine more than necessary.” 

Liam let out a resigned sigh, but conceded. They would have to make a lot of concessions for this assignment. Louis already knew that, and he’d warned Liam and Niall about it. 

“I guess I shouldn’t bring up bugging the place again then, huh?” Niall asked, having listened in to the conversation. His sleeves were rolled up, glasses on, as he inspected his cameras.

Louis’ eyes flicked upstairs, half expecting Harry to chime in about how unacceptable hidden mics would be, no matter how useful they were. But there was nothing, no indication that Harry was listening in. So Louis said, “No, that’s a hard no. Outlined in the contract.”

“Too bad,” Niall said with a quirk of his mouth. 

Harry was absent as Liam and Louis set up the guest room as their office, as Niall made friends with the condo manager who supervised him putting up surveillance cameras in the hallway outside Harry’s flat. 

Louis thought Harry’d fallen asleep, maybe, but he heard him about ten minutes later. 

Louis was busy spotting Niall as he leaned out of one of the windows, untethered. Because apparently he didn’t need that. Louis was ready to catch him should his balance waiver, but so far he seemed to be doing alright as he attached a camera to the outside wall.

He was so focused on his current task that he nearly missed Harry’s voice coming from the lofted bedroom. 

Even through the distance it sounded like a mumble. Which meant Harry was either talking in his sleep, or on the phone. Louis’ guess was the phone, considering the staccato of his speech. 

Once Niall was safely pulled back inside and he was packing up, Harry was back downstairs to get something from the fridge. 

“I’m going to the islands,” Harry said. He’d changed into a loose bowling shirt, open at the front, enough so that Louis spotted the earbuds looped around his neck. “Like, today. I assume I’m supposed to tell you guys these things.” 

“Okay,” Louis said. He should probably change into something a bit lighter, a vest instead of a shirt. The heat was still oppressive, and the AC was only just chilling the beads of sweat lining his temple. “What time should I order a car for?”

“A car? Why would we take a car?” Despite still being rumpled from his trip there was a sharpness to the way he addressed Louis. His cynicism of he situation seemingly the only thing that remained alert.

“A car is the most secure transportation, and provides a shield from the environment,” Liam recited easily, and Louis waved at him in explanation.

Harry simply blinked. “Right. Well. You can’t take a car to the islands. You just don’t.”

“So what were you planning on doing?”

“Taking my bike,” Harry said, nodding towards the bicycle that was mounted on the wall above the sofa. A lightweight cruiser, with thin wheels and faded paint. 

“Cycling. Okay.” He paused to let Harry think it over, retract his plan on his own. But he just blinked at him. “I don’t think that’s going to work for us,” Louis said, trying to be diplomatic.

“You don’t have a bike?”

“That is one of the issues,” Louis said, trying not to let his incredulity show. The main issue, of course, was that a bicycle wasn’t a safe way of getting around at all, and definitely not one conducive to having a security detail with you.

“Can’t you just run alongside me? That’s a thing you people do, isn’t it,” Harry said, dismissively. Louis couldn’t tell in this instant if he was joking, if he was being a shit, or if he was truly that naive. He didn’t know enough about Harry to know the answer to that at this point, although the fact that he was in grad school should eliminate the last option. That didn’t necessarily mean much, though.

“When is this trip happening, then?” Louis simply asked with a broad smile.

“An hour or so?” Harry shrugged, and picked out a popsicle from the freezer before going back upstairs, earbuds stuck back into his ears as he nodded to the beat of his music.

“He’s not very likeable is he?” Niall said as they watched him climb the stairs. Louis looked away first

“We don’t have to like him, we just have to protect him.” Or in this instance, Louis had to, since as soon as the set up was complete, he’d be left to take the first shift. Great. 

 

/

 

Their car arrived exactly fifty-five minutes after Louis called, right on time. After Louis had gotten a chance to change and been sat alone in Harry’s living room for half an hour. Waiting for something.

“The car is here,” he called up, and Harry’s frowning face peered over the railing.

“I thought I told you I was biking?” Harry said. 

“You said you wanted to. Which I’m vetoing. And the car is here right on schedule.” He tried to give an easy smile, but his lips were stiff as they spread, his cheeks feeling gummy.

But Harry didn’t protest. His face darkened, sure, his sunglasses were perched back on his face. But he came downstairs with a tote, he filled it with things from a cupboard and he waited for Louis at the door.

“Well? I assume I can’t leave the place without your say so, either.” 

 

/

 

They drove in silence, and Louis studied their route, going over the map of the city in his mind. He’d been down to the quay on one of the orienteering sessions so he knew where they were headed.

Harry was right that taking a car to the islands wasn’t practical--although it could be done-- but driving to the quay was good enough for now. 

One of the requests they had parlayed to the drivers was that whenever they parked Harry’s door should face the pavement. That way the officer on duty could get out on the street, circle the car and scan their surroundings and wait for Harry to get out on his side. 

That’s how they parked when they arrived at the quay. Louis did his part; dodging traffic as he got out and waited for Harry to exit. 

He knew Harry could see him through the car window, but yet he didn’t come out. He rapped his knuckles on the door to let Harry know it was okay to exit, in case that was part of his concerns. The door swung open, Harry’s holding it still, but he didn’t step out just yet. He seemed to be busy chatting with the driver.

He might’ve ignored Louis on the way over, but seemingly had no issues being friendly with the driver. Then again, the driver wasn’t the one who had interfered with Harry’s plans. 

“You need to pick up something, can’t be empty handed if you want to fit in,” Harry told him as he closed the car door behind himself.

There was a convenience store on the corner just before the docks, and that’s where they went. Louis chose a Gatorade for himself, as well as a few bags of crisps and popcorn. He slipped the handle of the plastic bag over his wrist, keeping his hands free.

They joined the throng of people queuing for the ferries, Louis making sure to be close to Harry, behind him, guiding him with a ghost of his touch. He didn’t want to cross any boundaries, or piss Harry off more, so he stuck with taps against the side of his arm to indicate he was still there. 

The crowd reminded him of the people Louis had seen at Brighton beach. Families, couples, groups of friends with their bikes, and the occasional note of sour grass air that that wafted their way. The difference was of course that in Brighton the beach could be walked to. No ferry required. 

Still, he kept his eyes wide and attentive as the sweat beaded along his skin. His underarms felt hot and he was glad he’d chosen to wear a vest. The heat still felt like a living thing, taking over with every breath.

At least he didn’t seem to be the only one suffering, he thought to himself as he observed people fanning themselves as they waited. 

 

/

 

Harry’s friends had pinged their location to Harry, so he held his phone out and lead the way. He had a stride that Louis followed easily, but felt intended to throw him off. It seemed like he’d conceded to having security, but he wasn’t going to make things easy. 

Harry had mentioned that his friends has secured a grill pit, and the best spot on the island, so Louis kept an eye out. Harry was so focused on his phone that Louis ended up spotting them first. 

Harry hadn’t told him who they were meeting but Louis had been studying Harry’s life for the past weeks, and he recognized Hayley and Nick from the photos Niall had attached to their background checks. Louis didn’t say anything though, allowing Harry to follow the map on his phone until it lead him to their spot, as it would. Interfering might sit poorly with Harry, and he didn’t want to make things more awkward.

Hayley got up and waved bother her arms in their direction, trying to get Harry’s attention. At this Louis nudged Harry’s elbow so he would look up from his phone. He shot Louis a blank look, features in sharp relief, but before he had time to ask what Louis wanted he spotted Hayley in the distance.

His face brightened then, revealing just how unamused he’d been so far. He took longer strides to join her and Nick. 

It was day one. A little resistance was to be expected.

They exchanged hugs, Hayley’s platinum hair in a ponytail that swung over her shoulders. She had a sports bra on and Bermuda shorts. Nick was crouched next to the grill pit, tending the glowing coals. He wore a vest, massive sunglasses and his hair in a deflated quiff. 

They’d dragged a picnic bench closer to them, and it was loaded up with snacks and food, bags of vegetables and crisps piled high on top of each other. Louis also spotted a few brown bags; the telltale sign of hidden alcohol. 

“This the bodyguard?” Nick asked after getting up and hugging Harry hello, and taking the bags off his hands, adding their contributions to the existing spread. 

Hayley shushed him, eyes wide, “It’s supposed to be secret.” She turned towards Louis, “Sorry about that. I’m Hayley.” Her mouth twitched in apology.

Louis already knew her name, of course. Just like he knew that she was American, working in PR and had dropped out of college. But people rarely appreciated being told what you knew about them that they hadn’t told you. So Louis just stretched out his hand to shake hers and introduce himself. “Louis.”

She gave him a bright smile, but she elbowed Nick in the side nonetheless. 

“It would certainly be good if it wasn’t spread around past this circle. We’re trying to be discrete.”

“Of course,” Hayley agreed seriously. 

“Oh, I’ll keep my trap shut, no worries.” Nick winked. Addressing Harry he said, “Quite fit he is.”

Harry ignored him, getting busy with the grill. He dropped links of sausages onto it, spreading them out evenly. 

Nick continued, undeterred, directing his comments to Louis, “Love the islands. Back in London I had a houseboat. Well, I guess technically I still do, I’ve just got a lodger there now.” 

“He knows already,” Harry said, interrupting Nick’s explanation. Louis wasn’t going to say anything, was happy to let Harry’s friends introduce themselves. Less awkward that way. But when Harry turned towards Louis and asked, “Right?” 

Yes, he knew that Nick was English, moved to Toronto a year ago with his boyfriend who he’d since broken up with. Aspiring DJ-slash-party photographer with a very up to date website and portfolio. 

Louis didn’t say all that, though. “I know some things, yes. Just like Harry told you guys about me, I kind of needed to know about the crowd he runs with.”

“Well, that certainly removes any awkward introductions I suppose. Except from you.” Nick had resumed his spot on the ground, legs crossed. He made little attempt to conceal the canned caesar he was drinking. 

“I’m a man of mystery,” Louis said, hoping to deflect. He wasn’t supposed to be a point of interest, or an attraction. He took a seat on the picnic table, scuffing his shoes on the bench. He didn’t have to look at them, but this way it still seemed like he was part of the group. It was a good compromise. And at least the illusion of privacy for them.

Hayley poured out some wine into plastic cups, handing one to Harry and one to Louis. He accepted it and placed it among the scattered plastic bags on the table. He wouldn’t drink it, but it was better to not make a fuss about it.

Harry was constructing vegetable skewers; mushrooms, peppers, onion cubes, cherry tomatoes ready to put them on the grill along with the sausages.

“They need to marinate for a bit,” Nick said, indicating a tupperware with sauce at the bottom. The skewers were placed in it and he shook it dramatically. “Good enough,” he concluded.

As the sausages on the grill were replaced by skewers, Nick and Harry filling their plates, Hayley was busy digging through her purse. Eventually she pulled out a vape pen. She clicked the button on it multiple times before saying, “Fuck.”

“What’s up?” Harry was already eating a hot dog, his mouth easily circling the bun and sausage. 

“I’m out of juice. I’ve gotta just sit and bake here without being baked.”

“Where’s your Pax, loser,” Nick said to Harry, launching a cherry tomato towards his head. 

Harry tried to catch it with his mouth, tongue out and ready, but it bounced off of his left cheek and landed silently on the grass. “Didn’t bring it.”

Nick rolled his eyes, said, “Useless.” As if he had brought anything of his own to help. 

“I just got back, I don’t deserve this kind of pressure.”

“Do you have any papers? Then you can just roll what you have?” Louis suggested.

Hayley’s mouth dropped open, eyes rounding as she turned between Nick and Harry. 

“I don’t,” Nick said, just as Harry raised both his hands in defeat. Harry, however, did say, “Someone must around here though.”

It was a fair assessment, judging from the thick weed smell that had wafted in their direction ever since they stepped foot on the island.

Hayley went up to a couple of people, crouching next to them. Judging from how quickly she got back up it was a dud.

“What about him?” Louis asked, gesturing to a bloke who was laying down, his head propped against the root of a tree. The position looked uncomfortable, but the bloke seemed perfectly at ease, chewing on something and fingers drumming against his stomach.

“I’ll check,” Nick said.

“Jackpot, Mr. Beautiful Mind here scored for us, twice,” Hayley said and Harry shook his head. “I thought you’d enjoy the film reference, you goof.”

“That movie is about a schizophrenic mathematician.” He turned the skewers on the grill, a few of them charred black. He squinted at them, displeased.

“Well we can’t all be film experts.” Nick rolled his eyes, leaning back and stretching out his legs.

“Here, gimme some of that,” Hayley waved towards the box of Oreos that Harry had brought with him. She tore off a strip from one of the flaps, softening the carton in he her fist, before folding it over and over again, and then rolling it into a filter. 

Nick drummed against against his thighs as he watched Hayley use two cigarette papers and her make-do filter to make a joint. He whistled once she licked it and sealed it. 

“Alright, Nick, gimme a light,” she said, proudly presenting the finished joint.

“Don’t have one, love.”

“Didn’t you call _me_ useless just about ten minutes ago?” Harry had moved on to turning the leftover sausages that Nick had brought, and Hayley’s veggie patty. The skewers were off the grill now. 

“What?”

“I quit smoking, I told you.” Nick flipped his hands towards Harry.

“You never _actually_ quit smoking.”

“Well maybe that’s because I still carried lighters with me all the time, making it easy to succumb to temptation.”

Louis had a lighter, tucked into the side of his shoe. He bent down to retrieve it. “Catch,” he said, tossing it at Hayley. She caught it easily and fist pumped the air.

“Did you just magic that out of your shoe?” Nick sounded incredulous. His sunglasses had been perched atop his head, but he pulled them over his eyes so he could could peer over their edge at him.

Nick’s dramatics, the teasing, the compliments. It felt performative, all of it for Louis’ sake. He didn’t mind people’s attention being on him but the context had to be right. In this instance it felt like he was disrupting their existing dynamic. No less because Harry seemed unamused. As many assignments as Louis had been on, this was unfamiliar to him. He could only hope they’d grow used to his presence and stop exaggerating their personalities because he was there.

“S’a good place to store things.” Louis explained. He didn’t add, in case you’re patted down or searched for contraband. Shoes were rarely searched.

The joint was lit, and pressed between Hayley’s lips. She took a puff. “Harry, when you said you were going to come back with a bodyguard I thought you’d have one of those dull guys built like a brickhouse with the busted noses--”

Nick cut in, “And no neck-- you know the look right, the bloke with no-neck?” He lifted his own shoulders up to his jaw, made a sour face.

“Oh god, the no neck guys!” Hayley laughed.

“With like sunglasses and mafia faces,” Nick continued, pulling his mouth down at the sides gesturing to suggest an appearance that was indecipherable to Louis. Still he couldn’t help but nod along to his words, as if he knew exactly what Nick was talking about. He even gave them a tight smile.

“I’d offer him to you but I don’t think you can afford his fee,” Harry said, tilting his cup towards his mouth. His throat bobbed with each swallow. 

Louis was surprised no one acknowledged the innuendo, but maybe it was because the joint was being passed around, and Nick was waiting for his turn, fingers already pinched. With his mouth pressed tightly against the joint he took over for Harry at the grill, moving the remaining food onto plates.

He puffed out a cloud of smoke before passing the joint to Harry. “So the guy, Lee,” Nick waved the tongs in the direction of where the bloke had sat, “he said he’s going to Hanlan’s so we should meet up with him there. A little beach get together.” Nick raised his eyebrows to emphasize what a great idea he thought this was.

“‘M down for that,” Harry said on his second puff.

“You can’t take Louis to Hanlan’s.” Hayley’s burger was half constructed as she squirted ketchup from a packet onto her bun, a slice of tomato dangerously close to slipping off the patty and onto the ground.

“Why not?” Harry asked, and refused to hand the joint back to her. He sucked at it, the cherry glowing bright and angry.

“Isn’t it like, a breach of privacy to impose your nudity on him?” She spoke around a mouthful of burger.

Nick cackled, as if there was an inside joke. Still, none of this conversation made sense to Louis.

“I don’t have to watch him changing, if that’s what you’re asking,” Louis said. 

“No, no that’s not it.” She directed her attention to Harry, seemingly expecting him to speak up. Her eyebrows raised, an incredulous look aimed in Harry’s direction. 

Louis shifted where he sat, angling himself slightly towards them but more towards the rest of the scene. Harry didn’t have a chance to speak before Nick did, a hand heavy on Louis’ shoulder. “It’s a clothing optional beach, love, that’s what she’s talking about.”

“Ah.”

“I didn’t realize I had to run this past you, so apologies if that was supposed to happen, I guess.”

“He guesses!” Hayley snorted, shaking her head. “Alright. Louis don’t let him bully you into something you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I’ve probably seen worse,” Louis said, and it was true. Harry shot him a look at that, as if he doubted the veracity of his claim. Louis shrugged at him. It wasn’t his place to elaborate and share details of his other gigs. “We can go whenever you want.”

“Atta lad,” Nick said, downing the rest of his drink.

 

/

 

The road to the beach was littered with signs warning that there was a clothing optional beach ahead. As if it would be the most traumatizing thing to accidentally run into. 

Still, Louis kept his mouth shut, and tried to trail behind Harry, Hayley and Nick, allowing them to have a small bubble of privacy. Or the illusion of it, at least. 

They found a spot on the sand that seemed smoother than the rest, laying down the blanket they used earlier. The cooler that Hayley was carrying had thumped against her thigh the whole way there. She sighed when it slipped off her shoulder and landed in the sand.

“I’m probably gonna have a bruise,” she complained, rubbing at her thigh. Nick was already taking his kit off. A man on a mission.

“Think we’ll find Lee easily?” Nick asked Harry, who shrugged with his shirt half off. 

Louis could probably spot the bloke again in no time, but it wasn’t his place to interfere. Especially if he wasn’t asked. 

Louis started on his Gatorade as he scanned the beach. It didn’t feel like a particularly unsafe environment. Most people were nude or wearing very little. They didn’t even have beach bags with spillover. Their own foursome had the most baggage with them, which Hayley was still trying to set up on the periphery of the blanket. 

The pile of clothes next to Nick and Harry grew, all items getting mixed together. 

“Let’s get some ice cream,” Nick said proudly. “D’you want one?” He asked Louis with a smirk. He was cocking his hip, a raised eyebrow practically challenging Louis to join in and get undressed. 

That wasn’t going to happen, no matter who challenged him.

“I’m alright.” Louis made sure to meet Nick’s eyes as he spoke, and then Harry’s. Harry still wore his necklace, and Louis couldn’t help his gaze following the chain down to his chest. It had been nearly fully exposed earlier, his shirt gaping open, but now it was on full display. 

Louis dug his nail into his thumb. What Harry’s chest looked like was irrelevant to his current mission. 

They walked away then, towards the water, and closer to spots of people dotting the beach. Louis didn’t feel the need to follow them at this point. There weren’t many places to go, and he could see the whole beach from where they sat.

Hayley cracked open another can, but this time she didn’t try to conceal the label. Felt unlikely they’d get busted for public drinking all the way over here. She’d taken out her bluetooth speaker as well, the same song that was playing while they packed up their picnic spot filling the air again.

“You’re not joining in?” He asked. 

“Oh, please, I’m not going to get naked for this sausage fest,” she said, gesturing towards the crowd. “If a babe comes along though I might have to show off,” she shook her shoulders coquettishly, as if she actually anticipated this might happen.

“Don’t let me stop you, though,” she said with a wink and Louis laughed. The pinch of tension that had kept his lungs tight all day seemed to dissipate with that. As if he’d unblocked his airway with the laughter. It felt good, not being on edge. 

She studied him with narrowed eyes. “So tell me, what’s part of your job? D’you get Harry out of things if he doesn’t want to do them?”

“You’re thinking of a publicist, not a bodyguard,” he answered, not taking his eyes off of Harry’s form in the distance. He and Nick had found Lee, sprawled out on a towel next to a large group of people that were relaxing and smoking. Louis would have loved a cigarette.

“Touche,” she said. “I don’t know, he could slip you extra for that. Have you say it’s unsafe or something.”

“Are you thinking of something in particular?” He chanced a glance her way, but with her bug eyed sunglasses covering half of her face he couldn’t read her expression.

“I need help moving again, just wondering if he’ll use you as an excuse to avoid it.”

“He doesn’t seem like the kind to make excuses.”

“No, he’s not. But he hasn’t had a ready excuse maker on payroll before,” she added. She pulled out a worn paperback from her purse, and folded it open completely before settling in.

While Nick was still busy chatting Lee up, unabashedly crouching next to his towel. Harry took to wandering away from them, giving them space. He headed closer to the shore. 

While it was hot out, there were few people in the water, no doubt because the lake water was still cold. It didn’t seem to deter Harry though, as he ambled towards the waves lapping at the sand.

He waded in, at a steady speed until he got up to his thighs. His arms jerked occasionally as the cold overwhelmed him. He took a dip, going completely under, but he popped back up with haste. His mouth hung open in shock, and he started to run in place to retain warmth.

This was the first time Louis felt like he needed to look away. The way Harry was moving was just for himself, not exaggeratedly languid while he knew Louis was watching. This was just Harry being himself, for himself. And there was no need for Louis to take this moment from him.

So Louis closed his eyes, for a brief moment. A beach where most of the people were fully nude wasn’t that unsafe. He could afford to do it. His skin was still rosy from the unexpected sunshine he’d been getting. He might get burnt a bit more today, but he’d soon have more of a tan. He was almost enjoying the heat now, allowing himself to tilt his face to the sky.

A rap song came on through Hayley’s bluetooth speakers, and from what he could hear she changed positions as she read. 

He stayed like that for a while, listening to the sounds from the beach, allowing himself to get grounded for a second. 

He opened his eyes to be met with Harry stood in front of Hayley and him, wet hair dripping onto the towel. Louis’ eyes immediately traveled to the way Harry’s lips were slightly open, plush and still wet. The hair that stuck to his jaw and neck dripped against his collarbone. His torso was littered with tattoos. At least he had his shorts back on. 

He blinked down at Louis, “Sleeping on the job?” Harry said, and Hayley pushed at his shin in protest, head still buried bent over her book. 

In retaliation Harry leaned down low, shaking his hair like a dog in Hayley’s direction. She shrieked when hit with water, covering herself up. But Louis was hit as well, each drop of water chastising him for letting his gaze linger on Harry. 

 

/

 

Harry insisted that they drive Hayley and Nick home to their respective flats. “Since we’re driving anyway,” he’d said. It seemed like he was expecting a fight, but Louis saw no reason to contest that request. The longer their drive back home to Harry’s flat, the more time Louis would have to decompress.

Louis took the passenger seat, allowing the three of them to whisper in the backseat, laugh when someone’s foot kicked someone shin and when the safety belt clips didn’t match. He felt a bit sun sick, the skin of his shoulders feeling hot and papery to the touch. He’d totally forgotten about sunscreen. 

The car went silent again as soon as Louis and Harry were left alone. Traffic was bad, the after work crowd of out-of-towners and back-to-towners filling lanes in both directions. Harry didn’t seem too pleased with it, sulking and scratching at his ear with his thumb.

It was an action that seemed designed to get Louis’ attention, so Louis promptly ignored it. It felt like they’d started a slow dance and Louis didn’t know the moves, waiting for Harry’s next steps, trying to predict what the next course of action should be. 

Harry broke the silence, “If I was on my bike I would be zig-zagging past all these cars.”

“And any ill-intentioned pedestrian could knock you over with a push. Into traffic, into someone else… You name it.” 

Harry’s sigh was weary. Still, he asked, “So we’re driving to campus too? No one drives in the city.”

Louis raised his eyebrows at that, the irony of Harry’s statement evident since they were currently stuck in traffic.

Harry cottoned on with an eye roll. “None of these people live here.”

Louis turned towards him, making eye contact. “You won’t be driving. Neither will I. We’ll be taking a car. Which loads of people do, don’t they?” 

The tightening of Harry’s jaw seemed the be the only response he would get. That and his left hand making a fist.

“When you bicycle somewhere you have to lock it and leave it, yeah? Which means it’s out of your sight. Which means your movements will be easy to trace and you’re easy to locate because if someone finds your bike they’ll know you’re nearby. And more than that--anyone could mount a GPS on it. Which means your movements can be tracked.” 

There had been a lot of uncertainty in Louis’ life. A lot of doubts. A lot of second-guessing, a lot of mistakes. But he was certain now, and he knew what he was doing. The only thing he wasn’t sure of exactly was how Harry felt about it, about him. But part of the problem he thought, was that Harry didn’t understand yet. Not fully. 

Even this, Harry hadn’t thought about, his brows furrowing, the line between them growing deeper. 

“I know this is inconvenient. But we’re doing it for a reason. I’m not interested in inconveniencing you for laughs.”

Louis didn’t expect a response. He was already facing away when he heard it, a soft, nearly-whispered, “I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

Louis blended in easily with the student crowd when he walked onto campus with Harry. It was likely in part to it being busy, but also because Louis looked about the same age as the other graduate students. And it might also have been because people didn’t pay as close attention to others as you’d expect. To placate Harry’s concerns Louis had also directed their car to park on the closest main street, which meant their mode of transportation didn’t stand out.

All small things, but it still amounted to a pinch of satisfaction that laying low was working out. 

Louis might not have been supposed to stand out, but he’d still paid a lot of attention to his outfit. He studied his and Harry’s reflection when they passed the large window panes of the shoe museum that bracketed campus, trying to see them as a stranger would. Nothing looked off. Even the stern look on Harry’s face fit into the crowd the were joining.

Louis had received an _all clear_ text from Liam, informing him that the classroom was secure before they went in. He sent back a thumbs up as confirmation that the message was received. 

Judging from the timetables Harry had provided Louis, as well as the information he’d gathered on his tour of campus, he’d guessed Harry’s studies would be something film related. So he wasn’t surprised to enter a small classroom that had a projector already set up. 

Louis held back on offering a suggestion on which seat was the best for security purposes. It wasn’t necessary. Liam had secured the location. Louis knew how to exit the building safely and where potential threats might hide. There was such a thing as being too controlling, even as a security officer. 

Still, when Harry chose to enter a row only to walk to the end of it, essentially caging himself against the wall? Louis wondered if Harry was doing it on purpose. Challenging Louis to speak up and redirect him, as he’d done many times before already. But Louis didn’t complain. He took a seat one over from Harry, letting him have a bit of room for himself.

Louis categorized each of the students as they walked in and took a seat. A few made eye contact, paying attention to their cohorts and trying to size them up. But most focused on themselves and their desk set up, whether it consisted of a laptop or a classic notepad.

The professor who introduced herself insisted on being called Doctor Hill, “Because I didn’t spend eight years working on a PhD not to use my title.” 

In his periphery, he could see Harry pursing his lips in concentration. The rest of the class seemed rapt as well. Dr. Hill made eye contact with each of them as she explained the syllabus and grading criteria briefly. 

Louis knew that Dr. Hill was aware of his presence. All professors had been alerted that there would be a close protection officer sitting in on classes, pretending to be a student. Louis half expected her look to change when she made eye contact with him, but she gave nothing away.

The tension in the room had slowly deflated, and even Louis was mildly interested. 

There wasn’t any need for Louis to pay attention to the content of Harry’s classes, but he was curious as to what they would entail. “You’ll practically get a free degree, won’t you,” Lottie had teased him when he’d shared specifics of his assignment. 

“Now, as you are aware, this class is on the textuality of the body in cinema. We’re looking at the way corporeal bodies are read as text in films, various genres. It’s going to give us insight into how bodies are treated and appropriated by the cinematic gaze.”

She placed her hands on her desk, her weight on them as she studied the class.

“We’re jumping in the deep end today, because if you can’t handle the content we’ll be interacting with, you need to know now so you can withdraw as soon as possible.” 

She paused, seemingly waiting for someone to speak up, or perhaps even leave. When nothing happened, she dimmed the lights with a remote. “Alright. We’re starting with a clip from ‘In My Skin’. I recommend watching the whole feature as well, if you have the stomach for it.” 

She started the clip. Rather than slump back in their chairs, trying to get comfortable, the mass of students all leaned forward. As if wanting to get closer, wanting to absorb the visuals. 

Harry was teasing his pencil between his teeth, but it dropped to his desk quickly, as the footage rolled on. Louis was more interested in the class’ reactions, which were a mixed bag. He would note everyone’s name when roll call was done so Niall could do cursory background checks. But in the meantime, watching each person react to the violence on screen was a good way of gauging whether they might be a threat.

There were some grimaces in the crowd, one bloke was covering his mouth and squinting at the projection. 

Louis glanced at Harry to see how he was doing. His mouth was drawn into a tight line but he didn’t look away. He’d even taken some notes before Dr. Hill turned the lights up again and started lecturing. 

This time Louis didn’t pay much attention to what she was saying. He could hear her, of course, but it was like he’d turned the volume down on her speech. He allowed it to fade to a background hum, the words entering his consciousness but not disturbing his focus. 

Because he was focused. Back in secondary, Louis would always get admonished for not being able to sit still. For not paying attention, for making jokes and pranking his friends during class. What his teachers had missed was that he needed more mental stimulation in order to focus. It was something he hadn’t gotten from anywhere until he started working in security. 

Even being static and still, Louis’ mind was a live wire. He used his notepad to take notes on the fellow students in the class, maintaining his cover should anyone look at him. But beyond that he ran through the layout of the building in his mind as well, remaining alert for any unusual sounds from outside the room. It required all his senses on high alert, juggling the various stimuli and judging whether any of it was relevant to the current mission.

He fucking loved it.

He didn’t even look at the clock once until the class was dismissed. He kept his distance from Harry in case he wanted to talk to some of his classmates, but he didn’t seem to care. Instead he just thanked the professor before walking out. She’d given Louis a slight smile before they left. The knowing look was the only acknowledgement Louis got that she knew he wasn’t a student. Louis had reciprocated. He hoped the rest of Harry’s professors would be this discreet.

 

/

 

Their next stop was the library where Harry’s study group would meet. The group had been formed at the urging of a few of the advisors this year, and Harry had been encouraged to join. It seemed to be an attempt to ensure less isolation for those who would be writing a thesis. Support from your peers had been deemed important in producing results.

Louis had heard none of this from Harry directly. It’d all been overheard and pieced together from various conversations Harry had with others. At one point Louis had heard Harry calling it his ‘thesis support group’. It elicited a laugh from the person he’d been talking to, and even Louis cracked a smile. 

They arrived early so they could determine where they would sit. Harry took an armchair within eyesight of the entrance. It was easy enough for Louis to take a seat at a table nearby. He pulled a thick book from the shelves and cracked it open, letting it rest on his lap. As long as he glanced at the pages and flipped one over every couple of minutes he wouldn’t stick out. 

The orange vinyl seat Harry sat on squeaked everytime he shifted. Louis could sense the frustration rolling off of Harry in waves. But as the group grew thicker, he didn’t have the chance to change seats.

Eventually he pushed himself all the way back and folded one of his legs over the other. Satchel on the floor and notebook in hand, he could remain in this position indefinitely. 

There were eight of them, and one of the blokes opted to use one of the flattened pillows as a floor seat. 

Louis rested one foot against his ankle, flipping the pages of his book as the students introduced themselves. He let their words waft towards him. A lot of what they said reminded him of the class. Most of the film titles they mentioned were unfamiliar, as well as the names they dropped. If it weren’t for the enthusiasm that was shown in the discussion Louis would’ve thought it was all pretentious gobbledygook. But they seemed to believe in what they said. 

Louis only honed his ears when Harry spoke. He was still curious about what made him tick, and this should be a good indication. When it was Harry’s turn to summarize his research project, he leaned forward slightly, the chair squeaking with the movement. 

“I’m planning on writing about the use of cinema vérité in Orson Welles’ ‘The Other Side of The Wind’,” Harry addressed the group. 

Well, Louis hadn’t heard about that film. Harry slumped back in his seat with a satisfied tug at his lips. While some of the others had been jotting down notes throughout their meeting, Harry’s notepad had migrated to the table at his side. Not a word written down. 

“I’m also writing on Welles, actually,” a ginger kid said with enthusiasm, gesturing towards Harry. He did look like a kid, soft features and slim build. “But I’m covering ‘F For Fake.’”

Harry pinched his bottom lip, but he nodded nonetheless. The topic moved on to which resources they had available, and how to best find articles relevant to them. 

Things wrapped up soon after that, and most of the group dispersed rapidly. A trio agreed to get coffee. Harry observed them as they walked off and Louis wondered briefly if Harry wanted to join in but didn’t want Louis trailing behind.

So he remained seated, and Louis waited for Harry’s cue to pack up. 

A woman from the group approached Harry where he’d been sat. Louis remembered her introducing herself as Caro. When she stood up Louis noted that she was as tall as Harry, black hair held back with a headband. 

Caro asked, “Are you in the documentary class, then, since your topic is a documentary genre?” 

“I think so. First class tomorrow, right?” She nodded. Harry had already put away his unused notebook, satchel slung over his shoulder.

“I guess you’ll be the one to watch out for, huh,” she teased him. 

“Everson’s made a few documentaries too, right?” Harry asked. Everson. Caro had said her thesis was on his work.

“I don’t know if he’d call them documentaries, but yeah. His oeuvre deals with hard boiled reality.” Her eyes went wide, and she clapped her hand over his arm, “Oh, actually the New York Film Festival is having a ‘retrospective’”--she rolled her eyes at that word, making air quotes around it.--“of his work and a few of us are going down for it..”

“That’s in October, right?” Harry’s interested tone made Louis’ ears perk up. Harry wasn’t actually going to try and leave the country under Louis’ watch, was he?

“That’s right.”

“That sounds amazing, I’ve only seen a few of his shorts.”

“He’s got about a hundred projects total. You’ve got some catching up to do.” 

They agreed to discuss things more after their shared class. And then she she excused herself, adjusting her glasses before leaving. Louis placed his book on one of the return carts and quickly followed Harry out of the library. 

He would have to nix the prospect of this excursion before Harry became too invested. 

 

/

 

Unfortunately for Louis, Harry’s schedule seemed to be highly regimented and tightly controlled. That, and he rarely was alone. 

Harry seemed to have an internal clock telling him how long he had to work on any given thing.  
There was a two hour block of studying. A visit to a downtown film library where many pages were copied and many notes were taken. A film watched, and coffee with Hayley. Harry did some reading as soon as they got home, and when it seemed he was done for the night and Louis expected to get his chance, he ended up on the phone. 

He’d gone upstairs and re-emerged downstairs without a shirt, but still on the phone. He even started cooking supper while on the phone.

Even Harry’s cooking seemed to follow a regimented routine. He’d gathered two fistfuls of rice and dumped them in a saucepan. There were carefully quartered tomatoes, and asparagus in a colander in the sink, waiting to be rinsed and chopped. 

There seemed to be split second opportunity for Louis to speak up when Harry hung up. He swiped over his phone, ready to plug in his earbuds. 

It didn’t feel like the best moment to spring a serious work related discussion on him, but it might be the best chance Louis had. 

“You can’t go to New York.” 

“Excuse me?” Harry turned towards him. He was posturing, his shoulders and forearms flexed. “Who said I was going to New York?”

“Are we pretending like there wasn’t a whole discussion today about a group of you going down there for some festival?” Louis tried not to be combative, leaning over the kitchen island. 

“Good to know you’re paying attention, I suppose,” Harry muttered. He might’ve thought it would go unheard as tap water roared into the sink. He shook the colander with asparagus, and turned off the water.

Harry carried on working as if the conversation was over. The hob was turned on so he could start his stir-fry.

“I’m telling you for your best interest. You wouldn’t be able to go alone. We’d have to accompany you. The logistics of that are... it would be highly prohibitive.” He slipped into the official lingo so easily. It was the safest way to interact with Harry, even though it always pissed him off. 

At least that response was predictable. But he could handle pissed off as long as Harry understood why his plan had to be scrapped.

As predicted, Harry smirked and said, “I’m sure mum won’t mind covering your expenses.”

“It’s not about money. We probably wouldn’t even be allowed into the country without visas of some kind, since we’re working. We have to be able to prepare in advance. Secure locations and make contacts--” He interrupted himself when he noticed Harry was shaking his head. 

Harry poured his bowl of vegetables into the saucepan. He stirred it carefully. His jaw was clenched, throat tight. He was clearly listening, and displeased with what Louis was saying. But he wasn’t offering anything of his own.

Louis shifted his weight where he stood, rolling onto the balls of his feet. The windows were still bare, Harry seemingly unconcerned that people could see in.

What would they look like to a stranger peering in? The two of them stood close by in the kitchen. Harry’s careful and methodical work as he cooked, and Louis’ casual stance. Friends who met up for supper? 

A little desperately, Louis asked, “What’s on your mind?”

Harry turned off the heat off. Crossing his arms he turned around to face Louis. 

“Why don’t you take a guess?” Harry challenged.

Louis couldn’t afford not to play along. “I understand you don’t like your plans interfered with.” He left out, especially since just today has been a control freak’s wet dream.

“Sure, that’s one of the things.”

Louis sighed. “Harry. Do you remember me saying I wouldn’t work with you if you didn’t want me here? We can still leave, you can find another team.”

Harry tipped his head back, hair grazing his bare shoulders. His stomach muscles clenched as he inhaled.

“I get it, okay. I get that you have to do your _thing_. But this is the kind of thing that could really help my studies. This whole scene is based around festivals and rubbing shoulders to get connections.”

“I get that.” Louis’ own jaw was feeling tight, his tongue thick in his mouth. “There’s plenty of things here to help with your studies, isn’t there?” The tension from Louis’ jaw had moved down to his ribs, the very pit of his chest. “That’s what the university said, at least. Lots of festivals and retrospectives.”

“Did you swallow their advertising pamphlets or something?”

“No, I met with the head of your department when I was outlining our safety concerns with the university.”

Harry was unmoved, waiting for more. Another answer. 

Louis worried at his lips. “...And...I asked what made their program so special that it would attract international students. Such as you.” 

“Why?”

“I was curious,” Louis said without thinking. He even shrugged, as if his body had been prepared to feign ignorance but his mouth had a different plan. Harry was still a mystery to him. He’d probably always be closed off to Louis; that was just the nature of their relationship. But it would help Louis to do his job well if he could understand Harry. And it didn't seem likely any information would come from him.

 

/

 

Harry slipped his thumb through the loop at the end of the wrap. He pulled it taut over his wrist before wrapping it three times around, moving on to wrapping his knuckles and thumb. His technique was good, but Louis was fairly certain that Harry knew that already.

Harry had sent a workout routine as part of the information Louis had asked for. He’d listed running outdoor twice a week (including a map of his regular route), Monday night squash league (along with the names of everyone on his team) as well as a weight routine and occasional yoga classes, all at the same health club.

He hadn’t mentioned boxing at all. But since he had rolls of wrap on hand, it was unlikely this drop-in boxing was done on impulse. It wasn’t at the health club that Louis had already been to while on shift, and since it was a drop-in class, the fellow participants were all strangers.  
It was a small class of eight people, and the layout of the place was good. Still, Louis decided to pretend to be auditing the class so he could sit in and observe. 

Harry’s frown was ever present, even as he paid attention to the instructor. He rolled his shoulders, glancing in Louis’ direction. His posturing felt deliberate. If the situation were different Louis would be certain he was flirting.

If Harry decided to keep up the visits to the boxing studios Louis might opt to sit outside the training room. But this would have to do for now.

Harry concentrated on what the instructor said as he loosened his shoulders and neck. The group all jogged in place for a few minutes before they were directed to punching bags.

Louis circled the room a few times, watching the way Harry’s muscles bunched under his skin. He had focus and dedication, and his mouth twisted whenever he placed a good hit.

Harry’s stance could be worked on a bit though, Louis noticed; his shoulders hunched stiffly, which put him off balance and would be detrimental in a real fight. But for sport, he did alright.

After working on the punching bags, the instructor had them play out a few bouts, pairing them up by weight. Louis was curious enough to take note of people’s strengths and weaknesses as they sparred, but he only really paid attention when Harry was up.

It was nearly impossible not to. He was showing off and there was nothing subtle about it. 

Each time Harry bobbed and weaved, dodging a punch, there was something about it that felt restrained, planned. He wasn’t _in_ the fight. He angled himself this and that way, always towards Louis, wherever in the room he was. The impromptu boxing ring was being treated more like a stage than what it was. 

Harry had very intentionally not looked at Louis all throughout the class, and this continued. Despite the lack of clear outwards attention from Harry, Louis could feel it; its heat seemed to radiate towards Louis, Harry’s awareness of his presence like a yoke around Louis’ shoulders. 

Harry backpedaled as he assessed his opponent. He landed a few good corkscrew punches, and took a few body hits and tried to clinch his opponent. 

“Break!” The instructor called, and Harry and his opponent separated, their match off as the next two people stepped in. 

Harry stretched his jaw, his headband doing little to hold back slight curls framing his face. He walked towards Louis, only to crouch and then drop himself to the mat. He stretched out his neck, the movement emphasizing the sheen of his skin. The sight was nearly impossible not to look at. But Louis noted it; accepted it, and cut his gaze back to the rest of the room. Harry knew better than to sit with his back turned to them. There wasn’t much point in reminding him of that. 

Rolling his shoulders in a stretch, Harry asked, “So. You still think I can’t take care of myself?” His lips were curled in a smirk, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. 

Louis cleared his throat. “Sparring for sport isn’t an indicator of anything. People don’t fight clean. Especially not if they’re scared.”

Harry pulled at the velcro of his gloves with his teeth. The movement twisting his face, so Louis couldn’t judge his reaction. When he’d pulled them off fully his features were relaxed. He nodded as if he were absorbing what Louis said. “Can that be learned, then? Fighting when you’re scared?” It was the first time Harry asked him a direct question without challenging him.

“You can train for it.” 

Harry nodded again, moving on to stretching out his calves, and then his thighs. Louis turned away, scanning the room again, but there was nothing to distract him as most of the group had dispersed. Instead he asked, “Who do you think the biggest threat is here?”

“Quentin probably,” Harry said, tipping his head to the instructor who was demonstrating stretches to one of the stragglers.

Louis shook his head. “Try again.”

“You’re not even going to explain why?” His intonation was teasing. 

“Quentin has a foot injury, he’s favouring his right. He might be able to get in a few good blows, but if he got thrown off balance? He’d be out for the count.”

Harry let out a long sigh. Disappointed that he’d gotten it wrong. He turned to watch the rest of the class disperse. His eyes narrowed as he looked them all up and down. He was taking this task seriously.

“Her,” Harry said, at last, gesturing to one of the women in the class. She had tightly braided hair and defined muscles. “I haven’t had class with her before but I always see here here. And she obviously has the best technique.”

Louis shrugged. She had been good, the most accomplished of the group, but-- “Technique isn’t everything. Her form is flawless. But she cares too much about the rules. She probably knows all the fouls that were committed by everyone today.”

“So who is your guess, then?”

There was an obvious choice as far as Louis was concerned. He nodded towards one of the guys that was packing away his gloves and wrappings as they spoke.

“He’s sloppy,” Harry said with distaste. 

“He’s left-handed, which means he’ll throw any attacker off. He’s got low punches--”

“Low punches are bad.”

“Low punches show confidence. Doing that allows him to have a much better peripheral vision as well. Which also makes it easier to get out of the way. Plus, what you call sloppy, I call dirty. You want to be able to fight dirty. No holding back. No fear.”

Harry listened, the tendons in his neck tightening as he inhaled deeply. His nostrils flared. But the rest of him was relaxed, pensive. With the thin fabric of his shirt damp with sweat it clung to him, and it was impossible to ignore the way his stomach and chest moved with each breath. He nodded to Louis’ conclusion, as if accepting it. 

“And how will we know that you’re right?”

“I guess we won’t,” Louis said with a shrug. Harry’s lips pressed together, but it resembled a tight smile of concession rather than a rejection of Louis’ information.

 

/

 

That night, when Harry was busy working in his bedroom, Liam arrived to start his shift. He was bright and eager to be on active duty for a few days. 

“He’s upstairs,” Louis said, just as he texted Harry that Liam had arrived. It was one of the small ways that they could avoid disrupting him, just texting that there’d been a changing of the guards instead of interrupting what he was doing.

Liam disappeared into the spare room, not trying to hide his curiosity as to what Louis had done with the place. He emerged with both of his thumbs up and a goofy smile. Louis had to stop himself from smiling back, happy that Liam was satisfied. 

Louis expected a weight to be off his shoulders when he stepped out of Harry’s building, but that didn’t happen. His work-week was over. He barely felt like a person anymore, needing to pass out for about twelve hours.

Still, he knew he needed to decompress before then. So he chose to walk back home. He rolled his shoulders and his neck, allowing his muscles to loosen up, for his posture to slacken into something more relaxed.

So that’s what he did. He took a leisurely pace towards the flat. He didn’t feel the overwhelming urge to look around himself, and the freedom not to keep himself in check every second felt good.

On the way there was a pizza place advertised a tempting walk-in offer, so he picked one up. It was better than coming home and finding nothing but cereal and a fridge full of Liam’s concoctions. Once he stepped foot inside he wasn’t planning on leaving again for some time.

He greeted Niall before swerving towards his bedroom. He was going to relish being horizontal. He was going to enjoy ear plugs and not being on high alert as he slept. He was going to watch some shit telly, and play some video games or fuck about on twitter. He’d figure it out, because he wasn’t going to get out of bed. 

He had everything he needed right here, and he could burrito himself in his sheets if he wanted to.

This was absolutely fantastic for the first twelve hours. Six hours past that it was alright, but rolling his sheets around him didn’t feel as necessary as before. Once he’d passed the eighteen hour mark, he was bored. His bed felt suffocating, the smell of sleep sweat and stale air wrapping tightly around him.

Louis’ day off was the first that felt like autumn, overcast and with a light drizzle. He didn’t mind, and he was torn between staying inside and watching the way the fog enveloped the skyline and blended with the lake, and going outside.

“What are you doing today?” Louis asked Niall when he made it into the living room. It was midday already and he needed to do something. 

He almost missed the view from Harry’s loft. From there you could see a slice of the lake, the cars on the freeway in the distance resembling lego pieces. It wouldn’t change the weather, but the perspective would be different.

Niall looked up from his laptop. Despite saying he didn’t need more screens he’d still gotten two, and they flanked the telly. Feeds from the surveillance cameras they’d put up were displayed on all three screens. 

“Working.” Niall said his eyebrows knitting together. He held up the list of names Louis had sent him. Everyone from Harry’s classes and study group. There was a lot for Niall to get through while also tracking the minutiae of Harry’s movements.

Louis sat down on the sofa. He rubbed his fingertips along the fabric, watching the main screen that showed the hallway outside Harry’s flat. As much as he respected the work Niall did, his expertise and the enthusiasm he brought to it… He’d always found surveillance a bit creepy. No matter how much video cameras improved, it couldn’t scrub away the invasive feel he got whenever he watched the feeds.

He couldn’t stay here all day. He rubbed his palms along his thighs, restless. He might’ve been alright with staying in a moment ago but now he couldn’t imagine it. He needed to go somewhere.

Niall seemed to sense his discomfort, eyes narrowing as he looked at Louis. 

“Why don’t I meet up with you later?” Niall asked. “Around half six? Should be done by then.” 

They agreed to meet at The Rhino -- the pub Niall had been raving about since day two. 

Louis found his way uptown, stopping at an English pub that had put the Manchester game on. It felt like a genuine English pub, with the requisite cranky middle aged men occupying it during the day. (Although, perhaps that had more to do with it being daytime.) Even the chips were thick and authentic, the chunks of potato filling his mouth easily.

And now it was time for another pub. But at least Louis wasn’t at home. He shuddered at the thought of the four walls of his room closing in on him. 

“This place has the best Guinness in the city,” Niall proclaimed when they walked in. 

He greeted the bartender and signaled that there were two of them, pointing to a corner table to the side. Close enough that they could watch the bar but far away enough for privacy. There were pool tables just off to the side, but save from the one all the way back they were unoccupied. Maybe they could play a round or two. It should help keep Louis sharp until he went back on shift.

Niall shrugged off his jean jacket, ran his palm over his stubble. He was acting weird. “I told you I found the best spot for Guinness, and I’m delivering.”

A young woman walked behind the bar, an apron tight across her waist. She greeted the bartender with a hand on his arm. He told her something, which made her light up. Deep dimples popped as she sought out Niall and waved at him. 

Niall waved back and watched proudly as she worked the Guinness tap. “One hundred and nineteen seconds. That’s how long it takes to pour a proper Guinness.”

“You sure your obsession with this place doesn’t have something to do with her?” Louis asked. Niall didn’t pay much attention to Louis, just beamed at the girl with pride.

“Tommo, you gotta learn to appreciate the good stuff. Which is a perfectly poured ale this far from home.”

Louis nodded along, just so could change the subject. 

He was saved by the bartender who delivered their beers. Niall stood up to greet her. 

“My favourite Irishman,” she said warmly, an Irish accent of her own, as she pulled Niall in close for a hug.

Suddenly, Niall’s exaggerated national pride made sense. Of course he’d find another Irishman to convene with, an attractive one at that.

“Kate, this is my mate Louis,” Niall introduced them, still standing up. 

“He talks about you all the time,” she said with a wink and a slap on Niall’s shoulder. Now that she was closer Louis could see that what he’d thought were dimples were actually piercings, glinting from middle of her cheeks.

“You don’t have to cover for him,” he said. He raised the glass to her and took a sip. It was malty and bready, filling his mouth easily. He let it sit for a bit before swallowing it down. It was good, sure, but he wasn’t sure he could tell the difference from one next door. 

“I like this one,” she said with a laughter that echoed throughout the room. Niall joined in before taking his seat again, shuffling his chair closer to the table.

She returned to drop off menus for them both along with the beer, and Louis grabbed it eagerly. The amount of walking he’d done today made him ravenous.

“Did I miss anything interesting?” He asked Niall. Not that he was craving an update, he was just curious. 

“Everything looked normal. They got a guy to come in and install blinds earlier. I would be able to cover a lot more ground if I could install--”

“Not gonna happen,” Louis interrupted Niall, already knowing where this was going. Harry had rejected in-house surveillance, and that’s what they were going to do.

Kate came back for their orders and promised them refills on the house. She filled Niall in on the adventures of one Tom and one Siobhan, and Niall reacted as if he knew exactly who she was talking about. He must’ve been here a lot. 

Niall’s phone pinged; the telltale sign that movement had been detected on one of the cameras. He pulled out his phone to click through to the live feed.

“Looks like Liam and Harry got take out,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Probably those poke bowls Harry introduced him to.” 

Niall pushed the phone in Louis’ direction so he could see for himself, catching just a glimpse of Harry and Liam as they disappeared through the privacy of his front door.

They were laughing, and they each were carrying take out bags. 

He tried not to think about that, but it felt strange. 

“I guess he’s warming up to us,” Niall said, taking a long pull from his beer. 

Maybe he was warming to Liam, but that certainly didn’t seem to apply to Louis. Louis lowered his head as he sipped from his beer. His face must’ve been more revealing than he thought, because Niall squinted at him.

“Alright, what’s the problem?”

Louis tipped his head to the side, taking another long pull of his beer to hide any revealing features. “Nothing. He’s the same as the first day.”

“Ouch.” Niall’s mouth turned down in genuine disappointment. He would probably be a good sounding board but--

But Louis didn’t know how to explain his problem with Harry. It was as if the terrain between them felt too deceptive. Louis was attracted to him, yes, but there was something else there. He had worked with other attractive men before. But with Harry, Louis defaulted to his role as an officer, his training taking over. He needed rigid lines between them. But Harry didn’t respond to that approach, clearly. His challenges at the boxing club had felt like flirtation, and Louis couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. 

He wasn’t sure he could change it, though. Not without inadvertently meddling and being in the way. It was bad enough that to the uninitiated they were attached at the hip, but he had affected Harry’s life more than he wanted to already.

If he got too comfortable, too friendly, it would blur the lines too much. And it wouldn’t just make things uncomfortable between them, no matter what happened. It might also jeopardize his performance.

But he didn’t want to discuss this with Niall.

“I guess we just don’t mesh.” 

 

/

 

Liam was waiting for Louis outside Harry’s flat rather than inside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a severe frown muddling his features. He perked up minimally when Louis approached.

“He’s in a bad mood,” he said in what was intended to be a whisper, but was too loud to be.

“That’s it?” Louis asked to make sure. Liam raised his eyebrows as if it weren’t that simple. From the little Louis had seen of Liam and Harry on the feed, they’d gotten along quite well. Perhaps Harry was just unusually cheery with Liam and now back to normal, and Liam hadn’t been prepared.

“I’m used to it,” Louis said, trying to hold back a hint of bite. Harry was probably the same as always. 

Louis was about to knock on the door so Harry could let him in, but Liam stopped him. “Seriously, just go in. I’ll text him that you’re on shift now.”

“Alright.” He let himself into the loft. The main floor was empty from what he could see. And the sound of muted dialogue filled the air of the space. With the blinds now installed and drawn and no light filtering in, the atmosphere was quite somber. 

Louis got the feeling that this was Harry’s version of locking himself in his room, since the whole place was technically his room. He decided to leave him to it, and retreated to the guest bedroom. 

Louis took the opportunity to check Liam’s report to see if he could figure out the source of Harry’s foul mood. He’d been on a morning run; watched two films at the lightbox, and had a meeting with his graduate advisor. This all seemed par for the course. But out of the things listed the only thing that seemed likely to put Harry in a foul mood would be the meeting with his advisor. If it had gone poorly he could see Harry reacting this way.

Not something that Louis could address, then.

Under the miscellaneous header of the report Louis noticed that Liam had noted Harry had requested permission to travel to Montreal over Thanksgiving. 

Louis’ mouth dropped open and he slapped the paper. “That fucker,” he said to himself. Harry had played them, gotten Liam’s permission so Louis couldn’t retract it. It was clever, if nothing else. 

A knock on the front door caught Louis’ attention, the back of his neck prickling. He ventured out of the room, looking up to Harry’s bedroom, expecting to see him come down.

There was no movement. 

There was another knock, this time more insistent. Harry must’ve been able to hear it. Perhaps he expected Louis to open? 

Not wanting to disrupt the stillness of the room, Louis headed over to open the door before a third knock might come.

“Hiya, Louis,” Nick said, keeping his voice down. He didn’t seem surprised that Harry hadn’t opened the door. “He upstairs?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Cheers, mate,” Nick said, and clapped Louis on the shoulder as he let himself in. He unloaded his bag into the fridge, lifting one of the take out boxes said, “This one’s for you. Don’t know what you like though, so please. Keep the complaints to yourself, yeah?” 

“Oh, thanks,” Louis said. His confusion must’ve been clear because Nick winked at him. Was that his own idea, to bring something extra for him? It must’ve been. He couldn’t imagine that Harry would’ve asked for it.

With his bottle of wine under his arm, Nick searched through one of the drawers. “Do you know where he keeps the bottle opener?” Before Louis had the chance to respond he burst into an, “A-ha!” holding up a bottle opener victoriously. He nabbed two glassed and held them by the stem as he made his way upstairs to keep Harry company.

Louis didn’t think the two of them had something going on, but the ease with which Nick moved around in Harry’s space, with little to no concern over crossing any lines; it chafed at Louis’ insides.

And apparently, Nick was who Harry reached out to when he was in a bad mood.

Louis knew at that point that the night would be a write off. He retreated back to his own room, wanting to give them privacy, even as a thin veil of music settled in the air and could be heard even through his closed door.

He lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. It was low, being that he was right under Harry’s lofted bedroom. Knowing Harry and Nick were both just up there, doing Christ knew what, made his insides squirm.

But there was no security risk, and thus, he was not needed. He’d been excited to be back on active duty so he wouldn’t have to find excuses to get out of bed. And now he was relegated to bed anyway.

 

/

 

Louis hadn’t quite fallen asleep, drifting somewhere in the in-between space. But a scuffed sound from the main part of the flat jerked him wide awake. He couldn’t identify what it was exactly, but he knew that he’d heard it.

He stepped outside of the room, trying to remain as quiet as possible as he was unsure what he was facing. He took a second to center himself; stretching his fingers and tightening the muscles of his chest, his stomach, his calves. Ready to get into action and react appropriately to whatever the sound was.

Louis’ feet were sticky against the hardwood floor as he took a handful of steps. The place was bathed in darkness now that the lights were all off and no streetlights or moonlight could illuminate the space.

He blinked to accomodate to the darkness. Eventually he noticed a figure moving off the washroom, digging into the cupboards. There was nothing there except-- 

Linens. 

Louis’ shoulders relaxed, but he still took a few steps closer to make sure. 

It was Nick, and he was pilfering the cupboard for linens. He turned and Louis ducked against the wall, trying to remain unseen. He must’ve heard him coming down the steps. He hadn’t heard Harry at night coming down; so that’s why the sound must’ve stood out.

Nick went on to dress the sofa with a sheet and then practically threw himself on it. He was still holding on to a thick blanket and he tucked himself in. 

Louis thought he was in the clear when Nick went still. He must’ve sensed that Louis was watching, because he turned around. 

Nick didn’t say anything, but even in the dark, even as Louis couldn’t make out his eyes he knew that Nick was staring at him. 

Louis’ pulse thudded, as if he’d been caught doing something illicit, which he hadn’t. The feeling was exacerbated when he noticed a smile spreading over Nick’s face. It was a knowing smile, but Louis didn’t want to think about what it meant that Nick reacted like this. “S’just me,” he whispered with effort, and winked.

He could try to save himself and grab a glass of water, ask if Nick had a good night. But it would be all too transparent. He turned around and went back to his room.

 

/

 

Harry’s party streak started with Nuit Blanche. 

Louis had heard about the event from Niall first, because even he was planning on attending. “I don’t get it,” Louis said, looking over the schedule that Niall had brought to their flat. 

“I bet Harry is going,” Niall said, a hint of laughter playing at his lips. “Maybe I’ll run into you guys.”

Niall had been right, of course. Louis found the same brochure Niall had brought home at Harry’s loft. His version of it included highlights and notes on the margins as well. There was no question about it: Harry would be attending, with Louis in tow.

They didn’t leave the flat until after nine. Harry wore a striped knee length trench, as if that was enough of a layer to keep him warm. The temperatures had dropped sharply over the past few weeks, the first step out the door in the morning always giving Louis a chill. 

Louis had covered himself up better, with a beanie, scarf, jacket and fingerless gloves. He didn’t know how long Harry planned to be out, after all, nor would he be warming up with coffee or food. 

As the night was about exploring various art projects across the city, it made more sense to be on foot. Despite the two of them walking quite a bit, Louis still had to remind Harry that he was supposed to stay away from the street. Louis was the one who walked near the cars.

“Ah, yes, I guess so you can save me from a car that decides to swerve into the crowd?” There was no bite to it as Harry moved to Louis’ right. 

“You’re catching on.”

“Quick learner, I am.” His breath fogged the air and he seemed content as his strides slowed down. He didn’t seem particularly concerned with Louis’ presence for once. Perhaps the days with Liam in charge had mellowed him out. Or he was still thrilled to have snuck permission to go to Montreal. 

As it was a Saturday night, Louis expected the city to be busy. But the closer they got to the downtown core the thicker the crowd grew. There were queues outside buildings Louis didn’t even realize were open to the public. 

By the time they arrived at City Hall, Louis was reminded of the New Year’s he’d spent in Edinburgh, taking part of Hogmanay. He was fine with crowds; it had been part of his security training. Most of his assignments until now had been doing point work in situations where a mass of people was waiting to lunge at the person he was supposed to protect.

This was different. There was no unity to the people that gathered. These weren’t fans or protesters. They were chaos personified. Some wanted to keep moving, some wanted to stay in place. Some were confused about what was going on. 

“Louis.” Harry raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. His hands stuffed in his pockets. His cheeks were ruddy, the chill air leaving its mark on his skin. Maybe he should close his coat. “Have you seen Caro?”

“No.” He hadn’t even realized they were looking for her. But he could start now. 

“We were supposed to meet here,” Harry said, picking at his phone. How he’d expected to meet up with anyone at this spot when every square inch was inhabited by someone was a mystery to Louis. 

“She’s at the rave,” Harry said, as if that explained everything. Maybe Louis should’ve looked at that schedule more carefully. Maybe he should’ve listened to Niall when he explained what the point of this was beyond, “All night party, mate. With like, crazy art installations all over the place. Don’t trust your eyes, or your ears.”

Harry led the way and Louis followed close behind. It was so crowded there was a built in excuse as to why he was so near, and Harry didn’t complain about the hand on his back. 

They walked towards Bay street, which had been cordoned off. There were rows of police cars parked on the street with their lights flashing. But it wasn’t the normal kind of flashing. The lights seemed to be synced up with an outside source, creating a pattern

Louis managed to keep an eye open, trying to spot Caro. There were fewer people here, and while Harry could’ve stepped away from Louis’ touch, he hadn’t. Louis pulled his hand away on instinct, making a tight fist and holding it at his side.

The farther down the street they got, the louder it became. He recognized the lyrics as Madonna’s, but the music was choppy. 

“There she is,” Louis leaned in close to Harry, pointing at the spot he saw Caro. She was with a few other people Louis recognized from Harry’s program. 

They were gathered under a massive sign that read ‘Is This An Emergency Rave?’ Caro gave them both hugs, even though she and Louis had never really spoken. He’d been there nearly every time Harry had seen her though, and that seemed enough to bring him into the fold. 

They waited for one more person to join the group before they headed to the village. They stood in line in front of a church, and were encourage to be quiet while inside. Louis didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t a Beatles video projected in slow motion. He couldn’t make sense of the odd sound until they stepped closer to the screen. There was a live orchestra performing, but they were also playing in slow motion to match the footage.

Louis didn’t hesitate to squint at the display. The rest of the group stared seriously at the offering, Harry biting his thumb as his eyes were fixed on the display.

Louis lost track of time. They stopped for coffee on the way to their next stop, and Louis got one. Not just because Caro offered to get them for all of them and it would be weird if he passed it up, but also because he needed something to warm his hands, bring the life back into his fingertips.

It was almost two AM when the group dispersed. But Harry and Louis’ walk home was cut short when Harry steered them towards The Horseshoe. Smokers were huddled outside. The smell was familiar, as was the inside of the place. Service was still on, despite it being past the regular last call hours.

“Lads!” Nick called out, beer held high as he waved at them from the high top he was sat at, pressed against the wall plastered with old fliers and concert photos. The bar was an oasis from the installations; no neon lights trying to steal attention. The bar seemed completely unaffected by the insanity that had overtaken the rest of the city, regulars playing pool and a band playing in the back room. 

“I didn’t think this would be your thing,” Louis commented as he leaned against the bar. He eyed Harry as he waited at the bar, having found Lee. It certainly explained why Nick was out. 

“Are you quite alright? Extended bar hours are _always_ my thing.” Nick raised his glass at Louis, whose hands were empty. Nick’s face fell. “You know this whole toasting thing doesn’t work as well when you’re not drinking. Can you at least have water? You can use that as a weapon.”

He had to laugh at that. “Water would be fine.”

“Perfect.” He turned around to call for Lee and Harry to get Louis some water as well. 

The bar wasn’t particularly rowdy, just stuffed to the brim with people who, like Nick, wanted to take advantage of the extended bar hours. 

Louis had only drunk half of his water by the time Harry decided they should leave. Nick had been preoccupied with Lee, and it left Harry nursing his beer in silence. He’d glanced towards the back room where the live music was, but didn’t make a move to go over there. Probably because neither Nick nor Lee seemed interested in moving away from their spot, crowded up against the wall. 

They barely even noticed Harry and Louis leaving them behind, too engrossed in their flirting.

Louis could’ve called their service but the walk was only about twenty minutes, and Harry’s stride didn’t leave much room to wonder whether he’d prefer the comfort of a backseat over the night chill. He still hadn’t buttoned his coat, but from the way his hands were stuffed in his pockets it seemed he must’ve been somewhat affected by the cold.

There were barely any cars out, packed streetcars sailing through intersections. The queues they’d passed earlier that night had diminished, but there were still people milling about, even as dawn crept closer. 

Louis even spotted a few children in the park. Large balloons that seemed to glow from the inside were illuminating the space, creating patterns in the dark as they were pushed around. Another inexplicable installation.

Louis had thought this would be it for a while, but instead the near all nighter started a week’s worth of a party streak. 

Not immediately, no, the next day Harry spent mostly in bed and on the couch in front of the telly, watching the same movie twice. Considering the notes he took Louis suspected it was for class, or his grad project. But he still seemed to be recovering from the night out. 

But then they were supposed to help Hayley move. Something that should’ve been a daytime activity capped off with a thank you beer, maybe some pizza. But instead Hayley had declared they needed to take advantage of her newfound proximity to the Dundas strip and everything it had to offer.

For someone who claimed to be low maintenance, Hayley had very difficult standards to meet. She wanted to go to Sex Laser first, “I met Ryan Gosling there once, it was sick.” They were led inside a blackened out storefront with no signage, and the inside didn’t match her hype.

Harry had made the mistake of going to the bar right away, getting a gin and tonic before Hayley decided they needed to move on. He downed it in one go, face screwing up as he slammed the glass back on the bar. 

He raised his eyebrows in Nick’s direction, and he reciprocated. As if they knew the kind of night they were in store for. Louis could guess that it would entail Hayley dragging them from place to place, finding something to complain about at each of them.

It was monotonous. Stepping into a bar, checking out the crowd, looking at the draught list and deciding it wasn’t good enough only to start all over again. They spent more time outside walking from bar to bar than on any dancefloor, which is what Hayley had said she was looking for.

Nick and Harry made it their mission to grab at least one drink at each place, and eventually they were plastered enough that Hayley couldn’t corral them on her own as they made friends with the bartender and did shots. 

She gave Louis a despairing look when Harry accepted a bottle of cider and started swaying. Louis shrugged at her and followed Harry deeper into the space, closely followed by Nick. He was here for Harry, and if he wanted to dance his arse off until the bartender decided to cut him off, Louis would stick by his side. 

Nick and Hayley had snuck off to the loo, and when they returned she seemed more willing to participate. She was unconcerned with her vodka campari sloshing over the rim of her glass, and the buttons of her shirt going undone.

At the latest Louis thought they’d be done at last call; glancing at his watch as they crept closer to two AM. But instead they found themselves on the way to an after hours bar. 

Lee met up with them there, and he was locking up his bike to a nearby fence and finishing up a cigarette when they arrived. Louis wanted one too, mouth going dry just at the thought of it. 

From the outside the place looked abandoned, which was the point, no doubt, the exterior of the building torn up and littered with graffiti. Thick drapes hung on the inside of the single window. The sound of music spilled onto the street as soon as the door opened, and it was like stepping into an entirely different world. 

Every place they’d been to thus far had been dark, but this took the cake. The sliver of light from the street lamps that cut into the room as they entered was the only moment Louis got a clear view of the place, and he tried to imprint it on his brain. He had to make do with the others leading the way and Harry and him going last so he could pull them out, should the need arise. 

It was a press of bodies thrashing about. A DJ was working behind the small bar, knocking elbows with the bartender. 

They pressed deeper into the crowd as the floorboards vibrated below them. With Hayley flailing her arms about they managed to get a bit of room for themselves, forming a dance circle. Nick disappeared, Louis tracing his movement to the bar. His eyes were adjusting to the dark, and a scan of the room revealed no imminent threats, just a lot of people letting loose.

Louis wasn’t going to relax, not exactly, but at least Harry was by his side and didn’t seem eager to wander off, happy to shake his head and absorb the music where they all stood. Louis would have to participate, at least a little bit at this place lest he stick out like a sore thumb.

Nick returned with a drink, something that looked like a vodka redbull, “I’m older than you lot, I need the fuel.” He managed to sip it even as he danced, which was impressive.

Louis didn’t mind being in this environment so much. It was easier to keep track of who was around while mobile on the dancefloor. It allowed for more flexibility to keep an eye on someone in particular, even get closer if necessary.

And then there’s that it would be alright, perfectly normal, if he brushed by Harry. If they collided with each other on the dancefloor. This was what dancing was. It was alright, it was encouraged, really, for his cover that he dance and participate.

He caught Hayley in a yawn, and he had to look away to not yawn himself. She muttered something to herself, and left for the bar, returning with a vodka redbull of her own. She didn’t even try to dance and drink at the same time, simply bobbing her head as she scanned the crowd. 

Harry wasn’t paying attention to any of it. A girl had been dancing closer and closer to their circle for a few songs, and Louis could tell she was gunning for Harry’s attention. She pulled Nick into a dance, which he happily participated in. But Louis could tell she was just working her way closer to Harry. It was so easy to predict from where he was standing. And yet Harry wasn’t paying attention at all. His head was tilted forward as he shook his shoulders. His dancing had been popping buttons open on his shirt all night. He leaned back up to reveal another two gone. Louis’ eyes shifted to the open front of his shirt. 

He bit his lip and turned away. He hadn’t even been drinking, and yet here he was, daydreaming on a public dancefloor? Christ. 

Louis’ focus shifted back to the undulating crowd around them. A song change was coordinated with flashing lights. By the time they could see properly again, the girl who’d been dancing with Nick had moved on to Harry.

She wasn’t quite grabbing onto him, but if Harry opened his eyes he’d see she was very much dancing with him. She seemed… harmless. Not a threat, and her attempted contact could proceed, he rationalized with himself.

She must’ve been growing impatient, because she leaned in close enough to touch Harry’s arm, trying to whisper into his ear.

He snapped to attention then, and he pulled back a hand pressed against his chest. He looked like he was searching for an appropriate response, even as they kept their steps up with the music. But it was too loud for him to actually say anything. 

Harry mouthed something at her though, and unexpectedly moved closer to Louis, wrapping one of his arms around Louis’ shoulders. As much as Louis had touted the importance of being prepared for anything and adapt to situations, this completely caught him off-guard.

Louis understood that Harry was trying to tell the girl that he was here with Louis. That he was _really_ here with Louis judging from how tightly Harry’s fingers gripped his shoulder. Hip bumping against Louis, and the slightest angling that allowed them to be closer. 

The girl shook her head apologetically, but Harry indicated it was fine for her to keep dancing with them. Which meant he wouldn’t let go of Louis for the rest of the time the girl was around.

Louis met Harry’s eyes, when he slung his arms over Louis’ shoulders, the skin of his arms sliding across that of Louis’ neck. The heat of Harry pressed against him triggering something. He seemed comfortable being this close, his fingers finding purchase in Louis’ hair. A gentle scrape along the longer hair at the back of Louis’ neck.

The girl wasn’t even looking at them anymore, she certainly wasn't looking behind them. And yet, there Harry was, giving it his all. His eyes were too dark for Louis to read anything into, but Harry’s intentions weren’t up for interpretation. They shouldn’t matter. 

Louis had to look away. Because if he didn’t he probably wouldn’t be able to control himself. And that’s not what he was there for.

Harry’s breath was hot against his skin, and he pressed closer, lips against Louis’ ear. “You can do better than this,” he challenged. 

He pulled back with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. His arms were still heavy on Louis’ shoulders. Louis’ only feasible response was gripping Harry’s hips, forcing him to sway in time with him.

They were out of sync with the music, but Harry didn’t complain, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he allowed himself to be led. He dropped his head forward with a sigh, his forehead making contact with Louis’. Harry wasn’t drunk enough to not know what he was doing. But Louis still wondered if he’d regret being this cozy with him when he sobered up. 

Malleable in Louis’ arms, Harry followed his rhythm, occasionally scratching at his scalp, his shoulders, when he wanted Louis to make more of an effort. Louis’ grip on Harry’s hips remained tight, the sway of Harry’s hips hypnotic. The girl wasn’t near them anymore, but that didn’t seem to matter to Harry, the heat of him closer with every move.

He kept dancing, but he shifted his focus from Harry. He observed the crowd, the bartender, the DJ. He watched people spill in and out of the place, and then he closed his eyes. It was easier to get into the rhythm that way.

Louis lost himself in it for a bit, and when he opened his eyes, Harry was revealing the line of his throat as he tipped his head back.

There was a shine to his skin that kept Louis’ eyes glued to the dip of his throat before someone bumped into him, and he blinked, refocusing on something past Harry’s shoulder. 

Louis was brought back into the moment by Nick yelling, “Lee’s shift starts in thirty!” He pointed to the front with his thumb, not waiting for them. Hayley danced her way ahead, and Louis pushed this tips of his fingers against Harry’s back, allowing him to go first.

Since Lee worked at a 24 hour diner it was decided they all needed to go there with him. “I need to refuel before tomorrow,” Hayley said, patting her stomach. It probably didn’t hurt that the diner was a block away from her new flat.

They allowed Louis to go in first to do a quick safety check, and request the seats he thought would be best for them. It was mostly because they didn’t want to all stumble in with Lee, and wanted him to be able to clock in before they stormed in.

Still, it worked to Louis’ benefit. 

“Coast is clear,” Louis told them where they were crowded at the front. A line had formed outside, drunken revelers waiting for their turn to fill their bellies with fries and ice cream.

The booth Louis picked for them was tucked towards the back, away from the windows but with a good view of the rest of the place. Harry waited for Louis to take a seat before Louis touched his shoulder, indicating that he should go first.

“Look at this gentleman,” Nick said as he watched Harry scoot to the inside of the booth. Louis fought the instinct to shake his head, the knowledge that fighting the statement would make it stick. Would make it true.

Hayley pouted dramatically. “God, I want to escort a girl to a booth,” she said wistfully. She was drunk. Nick was drunk. Louis ignored them. 

Nick tried to twist his head so he could see Lee getting settled behind the bar. He waved at him a bit maniacally. “Lee says people always order milkshakes at four AM. Which means that’s what we have to get.”

“Barf,” Hayley said, her grimace exaggerated. They were all slightly more wiped than usual. From the move all day, no doubt, even they only moved one room rather than a whole flat. They’d been out a long time.

Harry’s head was drooping towards the wall, as if he wanted to rest. Louis grabbed at his hand, just to get his attention for a moment. 

Harry pressed his lips together. He glanced at Louis for a second before leaning his head against his shoulder. Harry said, “Poutine for me, please. Extra curds.” 

“I’ll have a milkshake,” Louis said. He palmed the laminated menu in front of him. He didn’t know it it was the weight of Harry’s head on his shoulder, or the way the booth isolated them but for a brief moment it felt like he was part of the gang rather than just a hanger on. He would lean into that while he could.

 

/

 

The partying reached its zenith on Hayley’s birthday. This time their destination was the Church village. She wanted to do a bar crawl of her old haunts. They started at Woody’s, of course. Unfortunately on this night they were hosting a ‘Best Chest Contest’ which didn’t appeal to Hayley in the slightest. 

She sighed as the stage came into view and bare chested men were paraded onto it. Nick pursed his lips and after making eye contact with Harry he snuck off to the bar. 

He returned with two pints just in time to hear the host explain how the voting would go down.

“We’re not staying for this,” Hayley said.

“But we just got these.” Nick handed Harry a beer and patted Hayley’s back. Mere seconds passed before he, too, was engrossed with the contest that was going on. 

Neither of them expected Hayley to retaliate by glitter bombing the two of them, showing off more small baggies of glitter in her purse when they turned around. 

“This is what happens when you try to derail my night. We can come back here for this next week. But this is supposed to be my night.”

Nick’s mouth dropped open and he blinked, flecks of glitter clinging to his nose, eyebrows and lips. Harry shook his head, dispersing the clump of glitter at the top of his head along the rest of his hair. His cheekbones remained dusted with gold, as well as his fingers when he tried to brush it off himself. 

Harry took a deep pull of his beer, which also had tiny flecks of glitter floating about. “Aye, aye,” he said. 

“Then help me finish this off, alright,” Nick told her with a roll of the eyes. His attempts at getting the glitter off himself made it worse, now looking like he’d planned to go out doused in the stuff. Not that it would look too out of place considering where they were. 

When they left, Hayley decided they needed to refuel, pulling them towards a pizza joint. They each got slices and a box of garlic knots. Hayley kept pushing the box in Louis’ direction until he took one out. It was still warm, dusted with parmesan and it pulled apart deliciously in Louis’ mouth.

Harry’s eyes caught on his lips, and Louis instinctively licked them, hopefully getting off any crumbs and chili oil that might still be stuck there. “‘M I okay?” he asked, gesturing to his face.

“Are you fishing for compliments?” Nick asked after looking him over. “Never seen someone with such long stubble eat so cleanly.” 

Harry looked away as he folded the rest of his crust and bit into it. 

“This place, this is where I did the most dancing.” Hayley tipped her chin to a double townhouse across the street. Half of it was covered in an illustrated, colourful mural, and there was a queue out front. There were banners draped over the windows, and wall paint.

“He’s going to need some glitter to fit in,” Harry said, clapping his hand on Louis’ shoulder.

It was the first time they’d touched since that night at the diner. It made Louis’ heart race, of course, it was the only thing that triggered his pulse these days. But looking at Harry now, encouraging Hayley to dump a fistful of glitter on Louis? He wouldn’t ever imagine what had happened between them.

If anything at all had happened, really.

She took care of Louis’ glitter while they were in line, carefully pressing it onto his skin. “You didn’t disappoint me, so,” she said when Louis told her she could just dump it on him. He didn’t need special treatment. 

It felt to him like his cheekbones were being dusted delicately, along with his lips, the pad of her finger pushing against it. She flecked a bit onto Louis’ hair, a satisfied smile as she surveyed her work.

Their group was ushered into the bar after paying cover, Hayley leading the way to the bar with determination. It was crowded. So incredibly crowded. Louis stayed behind Harry, his hand stretched out, fingers ready to grab him and pull him aside if any threats should surface. That was the only plus side to Harry’s recent party streak; Louis had adapted to keeping an eye on him during these less than ideal circumstances.

Nick, being the tallest of the group, had managed to lean over the bar and order for all of them, and he passed Hayley two ciders with straws that she immediately started sipping on, her birthday girl crown already askew atop her head. Harry was handed a tray of shots, and he trained his eyes on them, making sure not a drop spilled as he swayed in the crowd.

“And last but not least, double vodka on ice for the gentleman,” Nick said with a wink as he handed Louis a tall glass with a slice of lemon perched on the rim. They pushed away from the bar, following Hayley towards one of the standing tables where they had a view of the stage where the drag show was going on. 

Louis took a quick sip from his glass and as he suspected, it was water. He took a bigger gulp, watching as the rest of them took their shots. 

Harry leaned into Nick and said something Louis couldn’t hear over the performance going on, a drag queen that had introduced herself as Aquadisiac taking the stage with flourish. Harry pointed his thumb towards the bar and pushed away from the group. 

It was close enough that Louis didn’t have to follow him, but he kept his gaze steady on Harry and the people around him. He accidentally bumped into a man in front of him, and seemed to apologize, only for the man to place a hand on Harry’s back. 

“Wooo!” Hayley shouted, punctuating the end of the performance and dangerously close to Louis’ eardrums. But his attention remained trained on Harry.

Even from this angle Louis could see the answering dimpled grin Harry gave him. He was handed a drink with a straw from the bartender, and his tongue darted out, trying to catch the straw. 

The man started to walk away, and Harry followed him. This time Louis didn’t stay still, leaving his glass of water on the table as he left Nick and Hayley to watch the show. 

Harry and the bloke were headed up the stairs, and Louis was grateful Hayley had decided to douse them all with glitter bombs as it made Harry easier to track, his hair still flecked with glitter and easier to spot in a crowd. 

Louis was having a hard time catching up with him, a trio of fit topless men cutting in front of him on the way upstairs. He took two stairs at a time, having to pause at the top because someone swayed dangerously close to the edge. He made sure they weren’t teetering at the top of the stairs, their metallic blue false lashes blinking at him. “Whoops!” He said with a giggle, trying to pull Louis closer. A slurred, “‘f you wanted to dance you could’ve asked,” followed by hands loosely framing Louis’ hips. He winked at Louis, weight dropping against the wall. He seemed coherent enough, just drunk and really-- Louis needed to find Harry.

Louis apologized before prying the bloke’s hands off his hips, attention diverted to the crowd. It was much darker than downstairs, a few strobing spotlights pulsing in time with the music. Loud enough to make his ears pound to the beat. He couldn’t see Harry anywhere.

He’d never lost Harry before, but unless there was another staircase or a fire exit, he had to be up here. He had to. 

Louis walked further into the room, eyes adjusting to darkness. There was a bar on the far right, illuminated by some dim overhead lamps. Harry wasn’t on that side; neither is the bloke that he walked away with.

The loos were to the side, past the dancefloor, and Louis dove head first onto the floor, barely nodding his head along the music. There were pillars shielding the view, and tucked behind one of them is where he found Harry.

Leaned back against the wall, the light flashing across his face enough to reveal his drooped eyes and the teeth biting his lip as he stared at the bloke that was framing him with his arms. 

Shit.

This was really when being discreet would have to factor in.

Louis moved back a few steps, pulse quickening. It’s not like Harry was paying attention to him, but he still felt odd staring openly at him offering himself up to a stranger. This was the first time he felt awkward shadowing Harry. 

Harry’s hand looped around the bloke’s middle, his fingers digging into his flesh. It’s what made Louis realize that Harry might want to take this bloke home. Or go to his place. How was that supposed to work? Louis taking the front seat in the Lyft? Calling their car so they could drop all three of them off at this guy’s house?

Louis’ fist was so tight his nails dug into his palm. Why hadn’t he thought of a protocol for this situation? Harry didn’t have a partner, Louis should’ve realized that this might happen. Was he really expected to third wheel Harry’s hook-ups? He’d done so well in avoiding thinking about Harry as a sexual prospect, this would mess everything up.

Still, he didn’t have much of a choice.

The bloke leaned into whisper something in Harry’s ear before he left, and Harry watched him go, thumb hooking into one of the loops of his skinnies. He spotted Louis and rolled his eyes.

Well, Louis might as well come closer then, mightn’t he?

Harry didn’t make a move to speak or even acknowledge him, head tilted back against the wall again, eyes seemingly glued to the ceiling. Louis couldn’t blame him entirely, though. He wasn’t keen on talking either, the loud techno beats enough to fill the space between them. Was there a way for this not to be awkward? For Harry to proceed as he’d wanted when he knew Louis was just out of the corner of his eye, _watching_? This wasn’t what either of them had signed up for.

Harry snapped to attention as soon as the bloke re-appeared, drink in hand. 

“Vodka cranberry,” he said, intently ignoring Louis’ presence. Harry’s hand reached up to take it, a dimpled smile aimed at the stranger. 

Louis snatched the drink instead, said, “I think he’s had enough.”

He didn’t miss the dirty look Harry threw him, or the confusion on the bloke’s face. Harry wasn’t that drunk at all. But he certainly wasn’t going to be drinking anything a stranger handed him. He should know better than that. 

Perhaps it was overkill of Louis to smile wide at the stranger and make to hand back the drink. It sent a pretty clear signal he wasn’t wanted there. And despite Harry reaching for him, he must’ve determined it wasn’t worth the hassle to stick around as he took the drink and walked away.

Harry pushed himself away from the wall and walked away. It was easy enough for Louis to follow him this time, and they walked past the pillars, the loos and the bar, down the stairs. 

Harry beelined straight for the bar again, angling himself so he could press between two people and lean over the bartop. Louis stayed behind, as always, but closer than he’d been last. 

It was brighter down here, and from the way Harry was standing the muscles in his arm were taut. His jaw in sharp contrast as he tried to place his order. Some of the glitter that had been in his hair had stuck to his eyelashes and cheekbones, just waiting to be brushed off. Louis could picture himself doing it; could imagine his thumb swiping under Harry’s eyes as his eyelashes fluttered, mouth slick and open waiting to be met with Louis’ own. 

Fuck.

Louis really couldn't wait for this night out to end. 

At the bar, Harry downed two shots with a grimace, and he fisted a bottle of cider. He left the bar and walked towards Louis where he stood. Not for him, but because it was closer to where they’d left Hayley and Nick. Harry looked for them but they weren’t there anymore. Louis could’ve told him that, but it didn’t seem like they were back on speaking terms quite yet.

On a journey to find them again, Harry turned around. He bypassed the stairs this time, and Louis managed to stay tight on his back as they slipped past bodies crowding the way. 

Louis had to stop himself from pressing his spread fingers against Harry’s back to guide him and reassure him that he was there.

This definitely was one of the occasions where Harry would likely prefer _not_ to know Louis was there. 

It was unfortunate. They had come far, but over the past week it’d felt like Harry’s patience, his tolerance for Louis’ presence was wearing thin. 

There was a doorway at the end of the bar shielded by a curtain of beads, a glittering rainbow filtering thin plumes of fog. Harry swept the curtain aside and pushed through.

The other side contained another dance floor, this one feeling brighter than the one upstairs. Louis even recognized the song that was playing, a Carly Rae Jepsen remix that had many people in the crowd waving their hands in the air.

Harry didn’t waste any time throwing himself into the crowd, his own arms raised as he waved his cider about. He twirled his way deeper into the crowd. 

Louis took in the room as best as he could, shifting his hips and shoulders with the music, taking the time to try and fit in with the crowd. He thought he spotted Nick’s quiff in one corner, and the closer he studied him the more convinced he was that it was him. After all the parties Harry had taken him to, Louis would recognize Nick’s jerky dance moves anywhere.

Harry must’ve spotted him, but he stayed in the middle of the dancefloor, occasionally taking a swig from his bottle. His eyes were closed as he pushed his shoulders back, moving them up and down. The way his head tilted back, exposing his throat, seemed to be an open invitation.

Perhaps they weren’t out of the danger zone quite yet.

Louis tried to get within an acceptable radius of Harry. Just close enough that he could keep an eye on him and his surroundings without ticking him off further. He spotted the bloke from a mile away, the way he himself tried to get closer to Harry. Unlike Louis, he didn’t stop until he was close enough to touch, his hands hovering somewhere around Harry’s hips as he tried to get into the same rhythm.

Well. At least he wasn’t offering Harry a drink. Louis closed his eyes for a split second. Just long enough to tilt his head up and take a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. 

When he looked back towards Harry he was dancing with the new bloke, arm slung over his shoulder, and face tilted down towards him. Louis thought he could see the hint of a dimple from where he stood, and he could actually picture the face Harry was probably making. Eyes likely half shut but gaze still intent. He was probably “accidentally” bumping his hips against the bloke’s as well.

Why did it have to be this difficult?

They stood closer together, going still as the guy brought his mouth to Harry’s ear. Harry laughed, and turned his head, spotting Louis.

His expression dropped immediately, jaw going tight and frown reappearing. His nostrils flared as he inhaled. 

The guy looked at Louis and Harry, puzzled, and Harry just shook his head. He didn’t hesitate before downing the rest of his drink, shouldering his way to the bar to drop off the bottle. The bloke didn’t follow him, and Harry didn’t seem to care. 

He kept walking without looking back, and Louis continued to trail behind him. He was going the opposite direction of where Nick and Hayley were, turning back into the main space. 

As soon as it was clear that Harry was headed out, Louis made sure to page their driver. He’d told them he was going to stay in the Village, so hopefully he would be at the club in no time. 

Harry walked past the bar into a hidden corridor, heading towards a fire exit. Louis had to jog to keep up with him, the heavy fire door slamming shut before he made it out as well. 

Still, Harry didn’t turn around, even with Louis’ steps clearly echoing behind. Harry kicked against one of the brick walls, pausing and running his fingers through his hair. Louis could tell the glitter was getting stuck to his fingers.

“Well? Is the car coming?” He asked, finally acknowledging Louis’ presence. He didn’t make a move to step into the open, allowing Louis to pass him as they walked closer to the street. Despite the situation and how irritated he was, Harry was still bothering with safety protocols. That at least gave Louis a pinprick of pride. 

“Pulling up now,” Louis said as he spotted the car rolling to a stop. 

Harry waited for Louis to step ahead and secure their car.. He was hugging himself now, no doubt getting chilly from the night air, boots slipping on the ground.

As soon as Louis gave the go ahead he slipped into the back seat of the car, the door closing with more of a click than a slam. Louis took a deep breath, treasuring the few seconds he had on his own so he could steady himself again. He bit down on his bottom lip instead of screaming into the night. He would probably get away with it in in the Village at this time of night. But if he let loose now, he wouldn’t be able to stay calm for the ride back to the loft.

Nor would he be calm enough for the conversation that would likely follow. 

He gritted his teeth, jaw going stiff as he swallowed and stepped up to the car, slipping into the passenger seat, for once giving Harry his space. 

Harry ignored him for the whole ride home, Louis not even trying to start a conversation, watching the darkened streets and the occasional stragglers. 

When they parked in front of the lofts, Harry waited to get out until Louis stood by his side of the car, ready to walk them to the door. He ignored the concierge and went straight to the lifts. He didn’t even make to open the door to the loft, arms still crossed. 

Harry shuffled into the space, head bowed.

Harry took off his shirt, balled it up and threw it towards the sofa ]before bracing himself against the kitchen island. His knuckles went white with how tight his fists were. Still, he didn’t look at Louis. 

Louis inhaled audibly. His jaw was still tight. It was starting to hurt. He tried to loosen his shoulders. 

It was clear they were both less than happy with how the night ended, “You’re drunk,” Louis said, an easy out for them to not talk, for Harry to give him the silent treatment. He went ahead and filled a tall glass with tap water and slid it towards Harry’s spread fingers.

Harry’s eyes cut to him through the strands of hair hanging over his forehead. He took the glass and gulped down as much as he could, water running down the corners of his mouth and down his chin. Dripping onto his collarbones, his chest. Droplets sliding, slick over the pebbling of his nipples.

Louis’ jaw hurt. 

If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was drunk. That the bartender had poured him a glass full of vodka instead of the water Nick had handed him. But this wasn’t like being drunk on alcohol. He didn’t feel sluggish. His pulse was racing to keep up with his mind. 

“Stop hovering,” Harry said, voice hoarse and he wiped his mouth with his wrist. There was still glitter there, inviting Louis to touch. 

“I’m not ‘hovering,’ I’m doing my job. I’m protecting you.”

“Cockblocking me, more like. I bet you get off on it.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Louis muttered, no longer immune to Harry’s jabs.

“I bet you’re jealous. I know you watch me,” he said, sending a tendril of ice down Louis’ spine. He hadn’t _watched,_ not really. He’d lingered, maybe, occasionally. It was impossible not to. He was trained to be observant. He was trained to pay attention. 

And Harry so readily took his shirt off, seemed more comfortable with it off. Louis had grown used to seeing him shirtless. But not in this type of context. Not with his chest heaving and his eyes dark.

Harry continued, “How am I supposed to get fucked with you acting like you own me?”

“I thought you got off on exhibitionism,” Louis blurted out, looking pointedly at Harry’s bare chest. It was a cheap shot. If Harry really _got off_ on being watched he wouldn’t have been bothered that Louis was watching. He probably would have gone harder, would’ve brought home men and gone to their places from the word go. So it was nonsense.

But talking, as much nonsense as it was, helped distract Louis from what was going on in front of him. That Harry was tensing his chest in a way that made his pecs flex, the dip of his collarbone look like the perfect place for a lovebite. The buttons of his trousers undone. 

And really, there was nothing stopping Harry from stepping into a backroom and having a go at a bloke, or having a bloke have a go at him. There was nothing stopping him from bringing someone back. It’s not like Louis was going to stand in the room with them.

“You like it,” Harry spat out, stepping closer, his breath sharp on Louis’ face. “You like people thinking I’m with you. You _like_ scaring people off. Why is that?” 

“You started it,” Louis spat back, thinking of the night he’d been the one to pull Louis close. The night he _wanted_ people to think he was with Louis. And now he was holding it against Louis? Fuck that. 

Harry stood so close, his lips parted slightly. Louis thought he was readying himself to deliver more barbs, but instead he pulled at his mouth with his thumb. As if he was trying to buy time.

It was the worst moment for Louis to lose his composure, to follow through on his instincts, but that’s exactly what happened. He snapped, overwhelmed by the lingering scent of cologne, the clean sweat from their dancing and arguing. He was intoxicated with it. He closed the distance between them and kissed Harry.

As it happened it felt inevitable, a direct connection being made between his mouth and his cock as it began to thicken in jeans. He hadn’t kissed anyone in a long, long time, and he was hungry for it. Harry’s fingers were gripping Louis’ shoulders tightly, and his tongue slipped inside Louis’ mouth, robbing him of breath.

That’s what made Louis pull away; in his dreams, in his fantasies he always woke up before it got to this. It wasn’t this vibrant, at least, the taste of bar lime slipping onto his tongue.

“Fuck,” Louis said, away from Harry until his back was against the wall. He bit his lips, trying to savour any remaining taste of Harry. “You’re drunk.”

Harry didn’t look drunk though, not with how determined he was, his stare burning the back of Louis’ eyes. “If I’d picked someone up tonight, would you have thought I was being taken advantage of?” He asked raising an eyebrow. 

All the while, Harry was also hitching his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers. Them being unbuttoned made it easier for them to slip over his hips, and then below his thighs…

Louis stopped looking, instead making eye contact with Harry’s darkened eyes. 

“No,” he said at last. Harry was completely in his capacities to make decisions. He was coordinated. He wasn’t slurring. He possessed a surprising amount of grace as he kicked his trousers away and stepped closer to Louis, hands landing just above his shoulders.

“You’re jealous,” Harry said again, this time with a smile.

Louis couldn’t stand being this close without touching and once again, he initiated a kiss. This time though, he delved in easily with his tongue, the slide of Harry’s mouth and lips absolutely electric.

He just needed to stay in this moment. Just this moment of hot breath, saliva, the wet sound of their mouths echoing into the silent loft. Harry’s face pressed closer, nose rubbing against his as he tried to move. Louis caught his breath for the split second it took for Harry to switch sides. 

He couldn’t think past his mouth, the lushness of being met with an eager tongue and lips. He could feel himself reacting, tilting his chin higher to meet Harry on the way. 

It didn’t last long before Harry pulled away and grabbed Louis’ hand, pulling him towards the stairs that led to his bedroom. One step up, two steps up, three steps up.

He couldn’t stop this when he got all the way up there, could he?

Four steps up, five steps up, six steps up. 

Louis stared at Harry’s arse on the way up, stared at the way he the muscles in his back moved as he turned behind him to look at Louis.

Seven steps up.

He wouldn’t be able to resist. He squeezed Harry’s hand and took the final steps up. 

Louis fully succumbed to the fact that this was happening. It was inevitable. But he was going to make damn sure it made for a great memory. 

Harry collapsed onto the bed with a bounce, and Louis came closer. He was still fully dressed, save for his shoes-- not that this was so unusual, considering how often Harry wandered around in nothing but pants-- but this context was different. 

Wanton. That’s how Harry looked, with the bulge in his pants, traces of the spilled water and glitter still glistening on his skin, his chest heaving. 

When Louis wasn’t quick enough for him, he reached toward Louis and pulled at the hem of his shirt. “Off,” he said, and Louis obliged. 

First his jacket, then his shirt, landing in a pile by the floor. He didn’t stop there, undoing his jeans and sliding them and his pants down in one. 

“Fuck me,” Harry muttered as his eyes raked over Louis’ body, zeroing in on his groin. 

“Thanks,” Louis said on instinct, gripping himself. He kneed onto the bed, under Harry’s open-mouthed stare. 

Harry didn’t hesitate to hold Louis’ cock himself, twisting so he could get closer, mouth closing around the head gently. 

Louis hissed when Harry’s tongue pressed against his slit and dipped below, teasing his foreskin. He used all his willpower not to thrust into Harry’s warm, welcoming mouth, the muscles of his stomach tensing, breath caught in his throat. 

As contorted as Harry was, Louis only had to lean over slightly to palm his erection, straining against the fabric of his underwear. With deft fingers he pushed them down so Harry’s cock sprang out, leaking and hard. 

Harry hummed, jaw going slack when Louis’ fingers closed around him. It was a tight hold, Louis relishing the feel of Harry’s throbbing skin. 

Harry’s breathing was deep, nose digging into the flesh of Louis stomach, and his cock slipped out of his mouth as he panted, hips chasing the friction of Louis’ hands.

It was giving Louis a thrill, having Harry at his mercy like this, but he needed to see his face. He loosened his grip and cradled his shoulder, pushing him back onto the bed. 

Harry stared up at him, silent. He wriggled his way out of his underwear, not once breaking eye contact. He reached to the nightstand, grabbing the lube and dropping it by Louis’ knees.

He folded one of his legs, thighs spread invitingly, tongue poking out of his mouth. Louis swallowed thickly. 

“Yeah?” Louis asked, as he coated his fingers with gel, Harry nodding along, his hair haloing on the bed. Tentatively, Louis reached between Harry’s thighs, thumb pressing along the sensitive skin behind his balls, smearing lube around his hole. 

Harry’s chin tilted up in defiance, his teeth bared. It was the nudge Louis needed, and he pushed a finger inside, Harry’s thighs parting easily, and his eyes fluttering shut. 

“More,” he grunted, teeth still on display. 

“Look at me,” Louis said, gripping his chin, a second finger ready to breach him. Harry might’ve been impatient, but Louis wanted to savour this. He wanted to tattoo this to the back of his eyelids, so this would be what he saw every time he closed his eyes.

Harry’s eyes closed tighter before he opened them wide, his nostrils flaring with every sharp inhale. Louis bent down and kissed him, hungrily. 

There was a bite to their kiss, a frenzy of a kind, and Harry bore down against Louis’ fingers, trying to get more. Louis didn’t make him wait for long, giving in and opening him up efficiently, crooking his fingers to find his spot. 

He knew he got it when Harry moaned into his mouth, his teeth grazing Louis’ lip. 

“Condom,” Harry said, slipping one into Louis’ fingers. He knew he was on a terrible, terrible path, but his conscious mind couldn’t translate it so his body understood. His fingers were slick with lube, his heart racing.

“Come on,” Harry said, impatient, scooting himself closer, heels digging into Louis’ back. He tilted his head up, challenged, “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Louis opened the package, slipped it on his cock, pumping himself once, twice, slippery with lube and then he held his cock steady as he sunk into Harry, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of it. 

He gritted his teeth at the feeling, the enveloping heat, the slick friction and the way Harry seemed to suck him in. “Fuck,” he muttered. He held still. 

Harry’s throat was bared, head slung back. His chest heaving as his arms were braced behind him, holding on to the headboard. The line of his jaw and the hollow of his throat made Louis’ mouth water. 

“Harder,” Harry said, or so Louis thought, the blood thundering in his ears, deafening him. Still, he started snapping his hips. Trying to distract himself from being overwhelmed and coming embarrassingly quick by squeezing his eyes shut.

Harry’s legs were tight around him, hooked around his hips, feet losing their purchase but digging into his skin again. Louis could feel the sweat pooling in the dip of his back, and the way his hair had gone damp.

Harry gasped, a beautiful, broken sound and Louis’ eyes snapped open. He had to watch. No matter how quickly this might be over, he needed to sear this into his memory. 

Harry’s chest was heaving, nipples begging for attention. Louis obliged, his thumb rubbing against one of the nubs. “Ah, ah,” Harry breathed, his back arching. 

It spurred Louis on, screwing his hips, blinking away the sweat from his eyes as he watched precome smearing across Harry’s skin. He pressed one hand against his cock, his palm stilling the twitches as he pushed in as deeply as he could. 

Harry’s breath seemed to be caught, his mouth open in silence as his body trembled. 

“Breathe,” Louis urged him, although it served as a good reminder for himself, as well. It was the only way he could stop himself from coming, holding his breath, keeping the heat in his veins, the prickling of his belly at bay.

Harry took a deep breath, the rise of his chest steady, and Louis dug his nail in just under his nipple. That’s all it took before Harry’s cock started spurting, coating Louis’ fingers as it was being held down.

Louis’ mouth dropped open,as he finally allowed himself to chase his orgasm, hips snapping. His eyes roamed over Harry’s face, his flushed chest. The splatter of come marking his skin. He gripped Harry’s thighs tightly as he was overcome, surrendering. 

His eyes shut, pinpricks of lights danced behind his eyelids as his chest felt full enough to burst, and his release followed quickly. He nearly dropped his weight on Harry, barely managing to brace himself, losing all control of his body, his limbs. 

Harry sighed, breath evening out, and Louis pulled out, collapsing next to him. Harry sluggishly turned around, the skin of his back like a furnace as it pressed against Louis’ chest.


	4. Chapter 4

The panic didn’t set in right away.

Louis had been in the moment, pressed against Harry, and remained as such, only aware that he needed to bin the condom, and that he should probably wipe himself clean. Wipe Harry’s skin clean, too. Those were the only pressing issues in that moment. 

And Louis allowed himself to be pulled into bed after fetching tissues. Harry’s grip was firm and undeniable, and Louis gave in. He let the rumpled sheets cover his overheated skin, creating a bubble for him to exist in. Harry’s weight pressed against him as he sank into sleep.

He got a few solid hours of sleep. He was still in a daze when he awoke. There was something surreal about Harry’s limbs crowding him, and the sharp breath Louis took stabbed at his chest. The daze lifted as simple as that; the reality of the situation he was in slicing through his consciousness.

It was fear, and not the kind that he’d been trained to deal with. This was something that was entirely his fault, with consequences he would have to face. 

Louis couldn’t even blame it on a blackout; he hadn’t had a single drink. He literally had no excuse for this ginormous, stupendous fuck up, his only influence being his own terrible impulse control. His patience had worn thin when he rose to Harry’s bait, exhausted from the week of mixed messages, the partying and late nights slowly burning away Louis’ resolutions. The leash he’d kept himself on had snapped, his mind snapped along with it, apparently. 

He couldn’t ignore this, and he disentangled himself from Harry’s limbs carefully and redressed. The first thing he needed was coffee. 

Tea was his drink of choice, of course. But coffee was what he needed to problem solve. It’s something his mum had taught him: a cuppa strong black coffee always made things better. “Because when you’ve only got that to drink your only problem is how disgusting it is,” she’d told him, keeping her voice hushed. Tea was for comfort, coffee was for when you needed your mind sharp as a blade. 

Louis was pretty sure he could get away with using Harry’s French press while he slept. He couldn’t go back to bed now. Couldn’t lock himself up in his room and put his thinking on hold. It just wasn’t how he worked.

So he was as silent as possible when he put the kettle on and found the coffee grounds and measured them out. He grimaced as he listened to the water boil, ready to turn it off as soon as the rumble of the water got too loud. He couldn’t risk waking Harry up.

The ritual of making coffee was the only thing staving off his whirling thoughts. He poured the water into the press and watched the ground gather at the top, bubbles forming as the rich scent of coffee filled the air. As the steam rose, he kept an eye on the clock to know when to press the plunger down and pour his coffee into a mug. 

The first taste was bitter and heavy in his mouth. But every swallow burned at the block in his throat. The physical manifestation of his fear and paralysis being withered away. He could think. 

In all of his planning and preparation, this fuck up wasn’t something that was even on the radar. Did it matter that Harry hadn’t hired him directly and therefor wasn’t his employer? Or did that make things worse? Had he jeopardized the integrity of the mission? No, that one seemed pretty straight forward. Harry’s safety hadn’t been compromised. 

If someone he worked with came to him with this problem, he’d recommend that they recuse themselves immediately. The boundaries existed for a reason. You couldn’t get too involved or invested in a principal. It muddied your judgment, it complicated your analysis of situations. It made you a potential target.

So there wasn’t really any question about it; that’s what he should do. 

The sound of Harry stirring upstairs caught Louis’ attention. He straightened his back where he sat, preparing himself to face him. He didn’t know what to expect, steeling himself to remain calm no matter what came next. 

Still, Louis startled when Harry came into view. Sleep rumpled and movements slow as he braced himself on the bannister. He looked down, eyes searching for Louis with a squint, loose curls framing his face. 

“I thought you’d left,” Harry said, his tone indecipherable to the thundering pulse in Louis’ ears. 

“No,” Louis said, _But I might have to,_ itching at the back of his mouth. But he swallowed it down. Harry shook his head, as if reprimanding himself for thinking Louis would leave although it was his job to be there. 

At least that's what Louis hoped he was thinking. 

When Harry pulled back from the bannister he disappeared from Louis’ view for a split second. Louis could hear Harry moving. He imagined Harry drinking from his bedside water glass, scratching the back of his head before sleepily heading downstairs to join Louis. 

Among those thoughts was an unwanted fear that maybe Harry had planned this. This kind of transgression on Louis’ part was a surefire way for Harry to ask for his dismissal. He wasn't proud of the thought, but it was there, it gnawed at the edge of his mind.

Even as Harry came downstairs, loose limbed and shamelessly nude, Louis could feel the back of his eyes burning. Not because of the sight, but because of the doubt that had taken unwanted residence in his brain. 

Harry walked towards the windows, opening the blinds. He still preferred having them open, unwilling to change his routine, his environment, more than necessary. The morning light flooding into the space, a reminder that there was a world outside of the flat. That whatever happened between them now, they’d have to carry it out of here. It wouldn’t be done and dusted. 

Harry yawned, unconcerned and unaware of the way Louis was watching him; trying to read the intent behind his posture, trying to read his mind. Or Harry saw it, felt the burning of Louis’ gaze, but didn’t associate it with the accusatory thoughts in Louis’ head.

Louis plucked a mug from the shelf for Harry to use. Trying to push away the bile in his throat, nervously swallowing air. 

“Thanks,” Harry said, taking the mug. He started working on making himself a fresh pot of coffee. He measured out the grounds, cleaned out the French press and put the kettle on. This time the water roared to a boil, the perfect soundtrack for Louis’ mood.

Louis focused his eyes on Harry's hands as he worked. It felt like the only safe space for his gaze to land. He was too aware of Harry’s nudity to look anywhere else. But even his hands weren't safe enough; Harry flexed his fingers as he worked. Those were the same hands that had gripped Louis tightly; those were the short nails that left behind marks on Louis’ skin. Hopefully nowhere Louis might see and be reminded of their night together.

Their comfortable silence allowed Louis’ suspicions to ebb away. He might be unbalanced and uncertain about his next steps, but he was still confident in his ability to read people. Harry wasn’t acting like someone who thought they’d gotten away with something. Louis told himself that logically it didn't make sense for Harry to trick Louis into crossing a line just to have him dismissed. He'd been given multiple outs. Louis had offered to step away repeatedly should Harry have preferred. There was no reason for this type of ruse.

Unless he was also trying to destroy Louis’ reputation. It was an intrusive thought, and Louis swallowed more coffee to drown it. 

Harry was looking through the fridge for food, and plucked out a carton of cream, as well as a box of pastries. “We’ve got to finish the croissants before leaving,” Harry said, offering one to Louis. 

Louis thanked him, picking at the flaky bread, leaving a dusting of crumbs on the tabletop. Their flight to Montreal was leaving tonight, and they’d be gone all weekend. Regardless of what was right and what Louis felt, it was impossible for Louis to recuse himself from the trip. He’d have to be in closer proximity to Harry for days. Of all the times to fuck up, he really had to pick just before a weekend out of town. The croissant felt like a cold lump of dough in his throat.

Louis swallowed some air, coughing into his fist, which brought Harry’s attention away from the fridge and his breakfast and back to Louis. “Niall will be here in about an hour.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed in confusion, so Louis elaborated, “He’s setting me up for Montreal.”

“Right, right.” Harry nodded in understanding. He must have realized that their Montreal weekend trip would require some preparation on everyone’s part. It wasn’t as simple as just taking off. There was a system in place, now. 

“I’ll be dressed by then,” Harry said, as if that were the pressing issue. As if they shouldn’t discuss what they’d done the previous night. “Did you want an egg?” He offered, gesturing to the breakfast supplies he’d placed on the counter.

“No, I’m fine.” He probably couldn’t eat more, the rest of his croissant pulled apart in front of him. The few pieces he’d managed to eat were weighing him down instead of fuelling him. 

Harry hummed his understanding instead of rebutting with a smart reply, further tilting reality. He’d seen this Harry, but he hadn’t experienced him first hand. It didn’t feel like he’d earned this version of him. 

Louis spoke before he hand a chance to stop himself, “I was thinking about checking with the head office before we go--”

“Have they got updates?” Harry’s curiosity was evident, eyebrows lifted.

“I-- I’m not sure.” He refocused his gaze on the slope of Harry’s shoulders. It was a safe spot to stare. His shoulder couldn’t look disappointed. Wouldn’t be offended or relieved at the suggestion that Louis might leave. “I was going to ask them about rotating in some new officers. It’s typical to rotate staff, for safety reasons.”

“Is that code for you leaving?” Harry asked, perplexed. 

“It would still be Neon staff. I’m not suggesting we withdraw as a team--” Louis tried to correct Harry. But he didn’t have time to finish before Harry interrupted.

“But you are.” It was emotionless, and Louis caved and looked at Harry’s face. He was shut off again, as if a switch had been flipped. 

“I think that might be best.” Louis had soured the air with a few words. The familiarity and ease Harry had stood with was gone at once. 

“Why?” The way Harry’s arms were crossed and his chin tilted up signalling that it was a challenge more than a question.

Louis clutched his coffee mug. It was oddly domestic, arguing over breakfast-- which was exactly the opposite of what he should’ve been thinking. He tensed his jaw before speaking, “I might not be the best choice for you right now.”

Harry cocked his head. “Throwing that back at me, are you?”

Louis had forgotten that Harry had said that when they first met. That maybe there was someone out there better suited to protect him than Louis was. But maybe he’d been right.

Harry continued, “You don’t think it’d be suspicious for my class buddy to suddenly disappear and be replaced with someone new?”

Louis pressed his mouth into a line. He hadn’t thought of that. He hadn’t had the time, only getting to the conclusion that it was the right thing to do. Then Harry had to wake up and distract Louis with his nudity. He needed to think this over more. Still, he wracked his brain for a counterpoint, saying, “People drop out, and your classes are in high demand. If a student left he’d be replaced.”

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” Harry’s eyebrow quirked in a challenge. “You kept saying it was up to me if you left. I haven’t said that I want that.”

“Not even after last night?” 

Harry bit the inside of his lip. “What was wrong with last night?”

“It shouldn’t have happened.” The words crawled out of Louis’ mouth, his heart beating wildly. 

Harry’s arms were crossed and he shook his head, shoulders in a shrug. Emphasising just how much he didn’t get the issue. “You didn’t take advantage of me, we went over this.”

“That doesn’t--” Louis’ hands clenched into fists. He needed to find the right words, but the line that they’d blurred made it harder to slip into his professional persona. This was part of the issue at hand. Eventually, he said, “It doesn’t matter that we both wanted it.” 

It must’ve been somewhat of a victory for Harry, Louis admitting that he’d wanted it. But it barely registered on his face. 

“So we got off because we both needed it. We’re both adults,” he practically spat this out, “You’re not here to protect me from what I want.”

“Harry. You’ve made it clear you’re not happy with me here. This could be good for you.”

Harry shook his head again, still, his tone had softened when he spoke, “This is so stupid. I’m not going to be _happy_ as long as _anyone_ is watching me twenty-four seven. It doesn’t matter _who_ it is.” His jaw was tight, corner of his mouth pulling down. 

Louis exhaled, pressing his fist against his forehead. 

“You’re still coming to Montreal, right?” Harry asked.

“Yes, of course. Nothing would change that fast, I was just putting it out there. The concept...” Louis hurried to say. “Niall is going to prep me on what I need to set up, and how to secure the Airbnb.”

“Okay,” Harry said. A slight nod of the head before he left the kitchen, carrying his breakfast upstairs. Louis couldn’t imagine that Harry was pleased with the prospect of having Louis on his heels all weekend.

 

/

 

Niall was unbearably perky when he arrived, clutching the handles of his almost bursting knapsack. Whether Harry had gotten dressed was of no concern, since he hadn’t come back downstairs since breakfast.

They still locked themselves up in Louis’ room, with Niall unpacking his bag and introducing Louis to the contents. There were various trackers, bud detectors and other gadgets. Nick had booked an airbnb and it was highly unlikely that anyone would’ve gotten to it--even if they connected Harry to Nick’s booking--but still. Louis felt better doing everything he could, and learning more about what was going on.

Harry’s reaction to Louis’ suggestion had rebuffed him, briefly, at least. He figured there wasn’t any point in contacting Steve before the left. But the logistics weren’t much better even if he broached the subject later on. They were all due in London in time for the gala in a month--since Harry’s presence was requested. At that point they were to reassess the staffing needs for this mission. 

What would be the use of asking to leave early? It would be impractical as well as reflect poorly on him since it would look like Louis couldn’t handle the responsibility. He winced at that, and immediately schooled his features. He was grateful that Niall seemed preoccupied with his phone rather than catching sight of his sudden grimace. It couldn’t hurt to ask Niall what he thought, “You think changing up the team would be useful?” 

Niall squinted at him, paying full attention. He leaned forward, elbows resting just above his knees. “You want to get rid of one of us?” His tone was accusatory. 

“No, definitely not,” Louis was quick to say. And then, “Unless you want to of course, I guess. I mean we can talk about it.”

Niall’s eyebrows were arched high, mouth puckered. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

Louis bit his lip. He might be giving himself away, right now. “I guess this trial run is reminding me we’ll be seeing Steve soon enough. I’m sure he’ll ask about that.” Louis shrugged, trying to let the topic drop from his shoulders.

“Alright,” Niall said, leaning back in his seat. His phone still clutched in his grip as if waiting for something.

“You excited for the challenge of remote surveillance?” Louis asked.

Mouth tugging at one side, Niall shook his head. “S’what I do everyday innit?” 

Louis shrugged. He wasn’t sure what it would be like to be in even closer quarters with Harry. If he’d just return to practically giving Louis the silent treatment, or if things would be worse. The longer Niall stuck around the longer Louis could avoid dreading the next few days.

“None of these things are fancy or advanced, but both your phones are already transmitting your locations to me so, should still be fine.” Niall had told Louis this already, but he glanced at his phone. Normally Louis would tease him over being scatterbrained when he needed to impart his knowledge on Louis. But for now it felt like a blessing that Niall wouldn’t be able to detect the surly mood Louis was in.

There was a knock on the door, and it pushed open, revealing Harry’s languid form. He had indeed put on pants. And trousers. No shirt though. 

He looked to Louis but his message wasn’t for him. “There’s someone downstairs for Niall. Craig just called up.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you,” Louis said, doing his best to pretend that they were definitely expecting someone else to come by. 

Harry nodded his understanding and retreated.

“Would you like to explain that to me?” Louis asked Niall once he was certain Harry was out of earshot. He also kept his voice hushed. The worst thing right now would be for something to go wrong. It would give the whole company a bad name. First the lead officer sleeps with the principal but also like, yeah, the whole mission has zero communication.

Niall returned to looking at his phone, no doubt avoiding the loaded stare Louis was giving him. 

“I was supposed to meet up with Kate after this.” He waved his phone around, feigning innocence.

“Kate.” Louis let the name sink in. “The girl from the pub?”

“Yeah.”

“And you told her to come here?” Louis’ voice was lower the crosser he got. The words were hard on his tongue. This sounded completely mad.

“No! No, I didn’t give her this address. I said to meet at Queen and Shaw. But she must’ve figured out we were in one of the buildings nearby. Probably checked the restos, too.”

“She just figured out that we were hanging out in the neighbourhood?” Louis’ panic was returning, straining his vocal cords, his mouth numb. “Did you tell her why we’re here? What we’re doing?”

“Not really.”

“Niall. That’s not good enough.” His insides swam. No longer just because of shame for himself, but because of his glaring hypocrisy. Could he really expect better from Niall when he’d had sex with Harry the night before? 

He should laugh, really. What was going on with him and his team? What was Liam up to? Maybe he and Harry had already indulged and that’s how they already got along so well.

Christ, it was depressing that the thought even entered his head. Even worse, although he knew it was absurd, and a joke, he could taste bile in the back of his throat at the thought of it.

Regardless, Niall’s behaviour and his own breach of protocol weren’t even comparable. Louis still had Harry’s sweat on his skin, rubbed into his very being. He pushed at his fringe, fingers pressing against his forehead. At least he could channel his frustration towards Niall. 

“I wanted to recruit her.” 

Louis chewed at the inside of his lip. Niall was getting ready to leave. Pulling on his jacket, standing with his chin held high. As if Louis was the one being unreasonable.

“I’m passing her info on to Steve. It’s just a technicality until she’s cleared and recruited. I think the fact that she figured out to start asking around for where I was should tell ya she’d be a good recruit, yeah? Good head on her shoulders.” Niall shrugged. His head was still held high, defiant. 

“You’ve got it all figured out, have you.”

“Yeah. Doing it right,” Niall said, shrugging. It seemed a challenge to Louis. But he didn’t have anything to counter with. He couldn’t tell if Niall was bullshitting him or not, his judgment clearly malfunctioning since last night. 

He still needed to say something. “But she’s not been recruited _yet_.” 

Niall rolled his eyes and shook his head. Zipping his knapsack up, he hefted it onto his shoulder. 

“Have a nice trip, mate, you’ve got everything you need.” Niall said before leaving. Louis recognized his tone. He wasn’t angry, he was just going to let Louis cool off and come to his senses.

At least Louis’ outburst was stopping Niall from noticing something was off with Louis. It was unfortunate he wouldn’t really have time to cool off in the next few days, not with his increased proximity to Harry. 

 

/

 

Niall was right that the Montreal trip would be a good trial run of what their travel back to London would entail. That’s how Liam defended giving Harry the go ahead to plan it when Louis confronted him about it. And it had made sense, so Louis had given in. He was regretting that concession right about now, though.

As Louis had predicted, Harry’s silence had returned. Their drive to the airport was only ten minutes, but every minute dug at Louis’ insides. He’d been fine with it before, because their roles were so clearly defined. But having been treated to Harry’s openness less than twenty-four hours ago and returning to the wall of silence was making Louis’ stomach turn. 

So it was good for him to have something to focus on, instead of just Harry. They took their time walking the underground tunnel to the airport. A weekend bag for Harry and knapsack for Louis; there was no point in checking baggage for a weekend trip. 

They were supposed to meet Nick at the airport, and Harry kept looking around them, trying to spot him. Louis suspected that he worried Nick would be late. All through security Harry’s eyes were wandering around the crowd, going through the motions as he kicked off his boots and walked through the metal detectors. Even as he sat and slipped them back on, his eyes were roaming around them. He was probably dying for company that wasn’t Louis.

Harry didn’t even stop at the complimentary snack bar, phone out as he searched the seats. Louis spotted Nick first, of course. Sat close to their gate, legs crossed and head tipped back. 

“I knew you’d never let me live it down if I wasn’t here on time,” Nick told Harry when they’d come closer. He lifted his cup of tea--he must’ve been there for a while if he’d already gotten tea for himself. “You know they used to give you biscuits before? Now tea and some rabbit pellets is all they’ve got, cheap arseholes,” Nick complained. 

He had sunglasses perched on his head, even though October was far from being sunglass weather. But perhaps it was just that tiresome being early to something. Harry looked relieved that they wouldn’t be stuck waiting for Nick to appear, counting down the minutes until boarding.

The flight was a mere hour, still Nick took great advantage of the complimentary drinks on their flight. “He’ll have a lager,” he indicated to Louis. 

Harry gave him a look, and Nick shrugged, said, “What? I’ll drink it instead, obviously.” He winked at the flight attendant. 

The rest of the journey dragged on. Nick filled Harry’s silences easily, his nasally voice barely registering with Louis when he didn’t want it to. He’d understood that Hayley was taking a ride share instead of flying so she’d be meeting up with them later. Beyond that there wasn’t much Nick could say that would be relevant to Louis. So he tuned Nick out. 

They took a taxi from the airport, choosing not to find a driving service in Montreal. It was considered a low risk trip since it had been quite impulsive and Louis was fairly certain no one was actively tailing Harry at this time. If nothing else, they likely weren’t tailing Nick who booked their Airbnb stay.

They were dropped off on a residential street lined with stone buildings. The street was fairly quiet, but it looked like a young neighbourhood. “Made sure to keep us in the English speaking part of town,” Nick explained as he toyed with the keys.

Louis was let inside first to do a quick sweep with Niall’s tech. He didn’t expect to find anything, but it wouldn’t take long and it made him feel better. 

The first thing he noticed was that there were only two bedrooms. Being alone allowed him a moment to brace against one of the doorways and sigh dramatically.

Harry noticed the bedroom situation nearly immediately as well, seeking out a bedroom as soon as he stepped foot in the flat. He shot Nick a look with a raised eyebrow. The rest of his face was expressionless, but Nick must have interpreted it in some sort of way since he then looked at Louis.

“What? Figured sharing a room was an easier way to keep track of this one,” Nick told Louis. “Is this not fine? I’m sure you’ve been exposed to far worse than his sleeping octopus limbs.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said, as if Nick had been addressing him. Maybe he knew beforehand and it had been fine before. Things had changed between them since the booking was done, though.

Harry’s bag dropped to the floor in the bedroom of his choosing. Louis followed him inside with his own bag, closing the door behind them.

It didn’t matter whether Louis could handle this or not. It was happening. He sat himself on the side closest to the window out of habit, although he didn’t think there’s was a risk of any threats. 

There wasn’t much to unpack, but Harry wanted to change, pulling his shirt off by the collar. 

“Will you close the curtains?” Louis asked.

Harry rounded the bed and tugged at the curtains the slightest bit, nowhere fully closed. “You were closer,” Harry pointed out, giving Louis a challenging look as he returned to his packed bag. 

He was right. And yet Louis hadn’t even considered closing the curtains himself. For some reason that felt like overstepping. Felt like making a decision about Harry’s environment without even telling him about it. But how different was that from what he was already doing? No wonder Harry wasn’t pleased with the prospect of someone new coming and messing with his habits. Louis swallowed, a lump in the back of his throat making itself known.

“So, what’s the plan?” Louis asked, trying to ease the atmosphere. Harry liked routine and he liked to plan, no doubt he’d have the weekend down to the minute. He had a bottle of water in his knapsack and he pulled it out, taking long swigs, trying to ease the discomfort in his throat.

Harry shrugged. “Hayley’s still a few hours out. So I guess we’ll do a late lunch and she can meet us for supper.”

“That it?” Louis studied the way Harry buttoned his blouse, fingers carefully working over the fabric. He looked down at himself. “That might get cold,” Louis said about the outfit.

Harry hummed. “It was Hayley’s idea to come here, so. She’s the Captain.” He pulled at a sweater from his bag, pulling it over his blouse. The colours clashed, and it looked a bit awkward. But it also seemed warmer and cozier. Harry topped off the look with a beanie. 

Louis should add a few layers on himself. The brief moments they’d had outdoors reminded him that Montreal was much colder than what he’d gotten used to. The breeze was more biting than cool. 

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Louis asked, without intent. The words tumbling out as he watched Harry drop to the bed. He was ruffling the sheets and comforter for some reason. Making himself comfortable.

“I’m being myself,” Harry said with a shrug and left Louis to pester Nick about their lunch plans.

 

/

 

“I want to see what their version of _old_ is,” Nick had declared, insisting that they lunch in Old Montreal. The cobblestones and old facades felt familiar, but Louis couldn’t tell what type of architecture any of it was, nor could he date it. He doubted Nick or Harry could either. Still, Harry’s focus was on their surroundings, the line between his brows etched solidly into his face. 

They wandered up a boulevard, the wide street drawing them along. Past sidewalk cafes and a man in shorts, which had them all staring at him in confusion for his inappropriate outfit.

The part of the city that they were in reminded Louis of the continent; the low stone buildings and wide streets. And so many outdoor iron staircases; they seemed like death traps considering the city’s infamous winters and ice storms. 

They stopped at an off-licence to pick up a bottle of red. Harry made the selection, with Nick snorting at the price. But it was purchased anyway. 

Harry had taken over steering the trio, following the GPS on his phone to the Portuguese restaurant they’d agreed to meet up at. Hayley’s only request for supper had been that there would be a corking fee wherever they went. 

It was a lively spot, lights strung inside the windows, casting a warm glow on everyone sat inside. It was busy, a few people waiting to be seated. But Hayley was already there, holding down a table for four all by her lonesome. 

She looked flustered as she waved them over. Her bottle of wine was already uncorked and on the table, her glass half empty. She must’ve been waiting for a while. 

She gave them all hugs, even Louis, fingers grasping at the fabric of his jacket. She even patted him on the chest before taking her seat again. “Not an easy seven hour ride, I’ve got to say. And when I got here I had to bat people away to keep my table.” 

She pushed the menus towards them. Louis indulged as well; it felt like there was no point in denying himself anymore. He was being included to a degree that he wouldn’t have expected but it didn’t feel right. Like his relationship with Harry’s friends had progressed farther than with Harry himself. 

That was Louis’ own fault though. They’d leaped ahead--farther than they should have--and now they were back at square one.

Their dinner was a mix of grilled sardines and shrimp, calamari, and some plates of roasted potatoes. It was put out for them all to share, and Louis tried a bit of everything. He didn’t drink. He watched the three of them filling up and emptying their glasses of wine. Being nudged farther outside their tightly knit group with every moment. 

He was so far from home. He’d never felt more like he was third wheeling, not even in the beginning. Still, he grit his teeth and got through it.

The night wasn’t over after supper, even though Hayley still hadn’t dropped anything off at the airbnb. She’d taken a few trips to the washrooms, though, once accompanied by Nick, and returned with raised energy levels.

It certainly explained why she didn’t want to fly in and deal with airport security. 

She seemed to know where she wanted to go and lead them to a club. She was the only one who got carded of them all. “I don’t believe this,” Harry said in a tone that could’ve been mock or real outrage. Louis couldn’t trust himself to say which. 

The night dragged on for Louis. He’d gotten good at remaining a shadow during nights out, at least. But Harry didn’t seem to be enjoying himself too much, either.

 

/

 

It would’ve been a lie to say Louis wasn’t concerned about sharing a bed with Harry. Harry had been cool all day, but Louis didn’t even know if he trusted himself in this scenario. They got changed, turned away from each other, and Louis crawled under the covers with his back to Harry.

Which meant he was facing the window.

Earlier in the day he’d noticed the hills of Mont Royal were visible from where they were. It had made for a beautiful backdrop. Rows of houses and then a mountain to top it off, scenery that didn’t belong in a large city but was there nonetheless.

But at night it loomed, eerie and large, the bright cross atop of it ominous. It didn’t make sense as to why it was there. It was as if the frail light seeping into their space had come from the judging cross in the distance. Of course it wasn’t, street lamps not far from the window either, casting a warming glow on the dusk. But it was still how it felt. Especially after their first day. 

The unfamiliar sound of the building settling filling Louis’ ears. Creaks from upstairs, and the sound of footsteps outside that wafted through their cracked window. 

Louis was so focused on it he thought he imagined Harry's voice breaking through his consciousness. He didn’t want to risk ignoring him, so he twisted round and found Harry facing him, face obscured in darkness. Nothing but the gleam of his eyes and mouth when he spoke again. 

“Why do you do this?” Harry asked.

Louis stiffened at the question. “Do what?”

“This. Put yourself in danger for others.” The moment was reminiscent of school sleepovers when the lights were out and you kept talking til you fell asleep. But his tone wasn’t filled with excitement.

“I thought you called me a hovering cockblocker?” Louis couldn’t help himself. The insult had stuck. 

“I was in a bad mood. You try getting followed around all day, every day.”

“It’s for your protection.”

“I understand that. That’s why I’m asking why you do it.” Louis could swear an unspoken, _And why you’d give up on an assignment?_ was lingering at the back of Harry’s throat. But he didn’t speak it. 

“It’s not about the danger I-- Steve gave me a chance, I didn’t really know what I was getting into at the time.” It was the truth, but not one he easily shared. He’d grown so at ease with his role and responsibilities it felt off to admit he hadn’t sought it out in the first place. “And I’m really good at it,” Louis added. It didn’t feel like bragging.

“So what is it about, then?” Harry’s voice was softer, but the line of his shoulder remained stiff.

“It’s about…” he thought about it. “It’s about being prepared for anything. If you can be prepared you can control the outcome of a situation.”

“I can understand that. Sounds like you’re a control freak like me.” The words were sleepy, nearly whispered. It was a vulnerable moment; Harry nearly asleep, still slurring out words to continue the conversation. 

His comparison wasn’t quite the same, however. Louis didn’t mind his own life being unpredictable-- the job itself was about adapting to different things. It wasn’t like he controlled the assignments he’d been put on; hell, this was his first time as lead. He was always following someone else’s schedule. But it didn’t feel right to start this conversation with Harry now. It would feel accusatory, combative. Which was the opposite of what he wanted. He knew that Harry’s control issues were about himself. That was probably partly why he’d been so sullen all day and jumped on the task of finding a restaurant for them. It was his opportunity to steer the ship, in the easiest way.

With Harry’s guard down, Louis wanted to probe more, find out what he could. He asked, “That’s why you didn’t want us around, right? You like being on top of your own shit. Don’t want people telling you what to do?”

He watched the line of Harry’s jaw as it worked, tense from his stern bite. He rolled onto his back. 

“Something like that.” He pulled his lower lip into his mouth. “I keep having to do that in school. Being told what to do.” 

“But you chose that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I guess I did.” A long sigh followed. From the lines of his face, Harry looked more alert than a few seconds ago. But he closed his eyes, eyelashes fluttering nervously. The only indication Louis needed to know the conversation was over.

 

/

 

The agenda for the rest of trip was heavily centered around food. Harry wanted authentic Montreal poutine, which apparently meant having it for breakfast. They walked to La Banquise, the twenty-four hour poutine restaurant that was on Harry’s bucket list.

As advertised, plates with poutine loaded with bacon, sausage, and eggs were placed in front of Nick and Harry. The server returned with ketchup bottles and vinegar. Louis’ stomach roiled at the visual alone. 

He’d stuck with tea and eggs and bacon, no fries and gravy, even turning down the home fries that were offered. 

But despite his distaste, Nick and Harry dug into their meals with gusto, the piles of food laid before them disappearing into their mouths. Hayley’s plate was no better. Black coffee after black coffee. He pictured the ulcer being fed. A cup of fruit and fat free yogurt. Scraping the sides of her bowl with her spoon.

She was bracing herself for the rest of the day, she said, when Nick teased her for being a wimp. 

Hayley wanted to stock up on bagels and directed them first to Fairmount; a crowd spilling outside as they joined the queue. “I think it’s cash only,” she said, flipping through her bag.

“I’m still too full from breakfast. I can’t look at any carbs.” 

“Don’t ask for a taste then,” she told Nick. 

She borrowed a twenty from Harry, and was ushered inside. The others waited outside.

When she returned, she handed over a bag of bagels to Harry, a lone paper bag left in her hand. “Next up, St. Viateur,” she announced as she unwrapped the cream cheese bagel and bit into it. Nick fake gagged but walked in step with her.

Harry pressed his chin against his throat, hands digging deeper into his pockets. Louis didn’t cotton on to the issue until he realized the second stop was _also_ a bagel shop. This time both Nick and Hayley went inside. Harry picked up his phone, trying to distract himself.

Louis took a step closer to him. “You know, you don’t have to stick around with them,” Louis said, voice lowered enough that Harry had to strain to listen. No one was listening in, Nick and Hayley still inside the bagel shop, stood in line. But it was the kind of suggestion that felt like it should be private.

It wasn’t Louis’ place to interfere, even with something as simple as this, but-- At some point this weekend he started to doubt the role he had in Harry’s life-- because he was _there_ wasn’t he? No matter how much he tried to remain in the background Harry was always aware of him, just out of the corner of his eye. 

So why not interfere in a way that was beneficial to Harry?

Harry didn’t seem to agree, frowning in response to Louis’ suggestion. 

Louis insisted, “I don’t mean like, storm off or whatever. Isn’t there something you’d rather do instead of this?” He gestured towards the shop. They’d had to move aside so as not to be confused with the people in the queue, since it now snaked out of the shop.

“Yeah, sure--”

“So why not do that? Just do your thing separately. Meet up for supper. Or back at the flat, whatever. You’ve got a key, don’t you?”

Harry considered this, fists back in his pockets as he watched the line move. 

“Do you not like them?” Harry asked, a curious dimple making itself known. “This just your way of ditching them for the day?” 

Louis shook his head, offended. If Harry wanted to tell himself he was doing _Louis_ a favour by defecting from the group… but no. “Please, I have more tolerance than that, I sat through all your movies with zero complaints, didn’t I?”

“Those movies are masterpieces.” Harry sounded slightly offended, but it was an emotion other than stonewalling. Which Louis counted as a victory.

“Sure, not my cuppa though,” Louis said with a shrug. 

“Fine,” Harry conceded, the set of his jaw set. His phone was back out, and from the determined look on his face Louis guessed he was making a list of things he wanted to check out for the day. 

 

/

 

Harry didn’t leave Nick and Hayley without first offering them to come along, as a detour to the Montreal food tour they were on. But the offer was declined. Louis didn’t know what Harry had expected, but there were no dramatics, no accusations that Harry was being a bore for not wanting to stick it out with them.

It was totally fine.

So Louis followed Harry as he led the way down a side street. He was on the lookout for street signs, looking for something in particular. “Jeanne Mance Avenue,” he muttered under his breath, to no one but himself. 

Their pace was meandering, but it wasn’t too cold, and they weren’t in a rush to go anywhere. If Harry wanted to spend all day walking up and down obscure Montreal streets Louis could live with that. 

Harry came to a stop halfway across a block, staring across the street. His mouth turning up in a soft smile. 

Across the street was a mural, covering a strip of wall between buildings. 

“This mural…” Harry spread his hands wide, framing the artwork in question. He nodded for a bit before he plucked out his cell phone to take a photo. 

“What about it?” Louis prompted.

“They walk past this in a Dolan film. That scene was just. Perfect.” He bit his lip before crossing the street, not bothering to check for traffic. 

It gave Louis a proper jolt, and he jogged after Harry, keeping a palm on his back. An excuse to quicken his pace so he’d make it to the other side of the street.

“Come on,” Harry urged Louis, pushing him towards the mural. His phone was out again and he took a photo of Louis stood next to it. “You can do better than that.”

“You didn’t give me any direction.” 

“Okay, can you walk from that corner?” He gestured from behind himself. “And then when you get just past the halfway point turn your head towards me. Like if you heard someone call your name.” He was serious about his directions, as if he’d visualized exactly what he was after.

Louis nodded and went to the spot Harry pointed out. It made his skin prickle, playing model for Harry. Intending on being seen--documented--when his job so far was about blending in, being in the background. But Harry’s excitement was contagious and addictive. 

The rest of the day was much of the same. Harry found various filming locations he wanted to observe in reality; see if any of the aura from those days was still there. Some he asked Louis to be in the frame for, some he was content with just the scenery. He even made them stop at a cafe-- no doubt another location, judging from how particular about where they should sit, and how careless he was about the menu.

 

/

 

There were no conversations between them that night, but considering the success of the day, Louis was alright with that. They only had one night left, sharing a bed, but still Louis felt like he was at the precipice of a slippery slope. Neither of them had said anything, or done anything, even verging on inappropriate. But he could feel himself slipping out of his role. That’s what not having a moment to step aside and reground himself had done to him.

Harry had fallen asleep less than a foot away, but it still felt to Louis like there was a vast space between them, his limbs aching to breach it. He could tell from the way Harry curled in on himself, turning himself around, that he wasn’t entirely at ease. His head shook against the pillow, his features tight and tense. 

Harry was probably having a nightmare. But it wouldn't be appropriate to interrupt. Or would it? He was slowly going delirious with lack of sleep. He couldn’t stay still and just watch as Harry thrashed.

“Shh, Harry, it’s okay,” he tried whispering, feeling slightly ridiculous. Of course Harry didn’t respond. He turned around again, his hair wild over his head. Louis pushed some of the strands away from his face. Harry snuffled in response, his jaw clenched tight. 

Louis couldn’t help with this, it was painfully clear. He gave in and took hold of one of Harry’s hands, carefully rubbing his thumb along Harry’s skin. Waiting for his features to relax. Louis studied him carefully, aware that he just needed to rest his eyes for a little bit, as he waited for a sign that Harry was alright.

 

/

 

They were back on Hayley’s schedule the next day.

They went to a Cuban cafe for breakfast and were served omelettes the size of their heads, and bowls of coffee. They hadn’t even needed to pressure Louis into getting breakfast. He’d given in at this point; he would need to eat anyway, and the only danger that was present on this trip was the taut string of tension between Harry and him. 

Harry’s jaw was slack, and his eyes narrowed as he tried to chew. “Is there something wrong with it?” Nick asked.

Louis’ attention was on him in an instant, and his eyes darted between his plate, one that looked identical to the others’, and Harry’s pained face. “Harry?”

But Harry shook his head, gesturing with his hands in frustration. Eventually he swallowed, his face still screwed up. “The food is fine I just--” He interrupted himself, working his jaw over. “Can’t have it.”

“Are you getting sick? Is it your throat?” Hayley asked, voice going shrill. She clutched her scarf dramatically, as if she were going to cover her mouth with it.

“Think Louis is the one in the danger zone if that’s the case,” Nick said. His eyebrows were raised as he looked between the two of them. There was no point in responding to the dig.

“No--” Harry interrupted. His mouth was downturned. He’d already pushed his plate away, tentatively taking a sip of coffee instead.

“Harry, if you can’t eat maybe you should see a doctor.” Louis couldn’t help the press of his palm against Harry’s forehead. He’d dealt with ill siblings often enough to always default to check for a fever. Harry was warm, yes, but not feverish.

Still, Louis’ hand dropped away like he’d been scorched.

“I’m fine,” Harry said. His fingers were still pressed at the hinge of his jaw, as if that alone would cure him immediately.

There was no concern for Louis’ words on Harry’s face. He picked his cappuccino back up, sipping at it carefully. His fingertips were massaging his jaw. If he wasn’t sick and it wasn’t his throat-- Louis’ narrowed his eyes, trying to figure it out. He remembered Harry’s thrashing the night before; the anxious cut of his face, his eyes screwed shut.

“Is it your jaw?” He asked quietly. Nick and Hayley had resumed their eating and gossip, in their own world. Still Harry cut a look towards them before staring back into his coffee cup. “It is, isn’t it?”

“I guess I had a lot of bad dreams last night, must’ve ground my teeth a bunch.”

Yes, that certainly made sense. There was a pinch in Louis’ lungs, the air growing sparse. _Should_ he have woken Harry up, then? Would that have spared him? Or was the damage already done?

For someone whose job it was to be prepared for everything, he’d been falling awfully short lately. 

Louis had noticed Harry rubbing the underside of his jaw that morning. Stretching his mouth open as if he’d been caught in a yawn. But there hadn’t been much cause for concern at that point. 

“So you can’t chew,” Louis said, and Harry shrugged in response.

Of course, this was when Nick caught on. “Are you really poorly?” He patted Hayley on the shoulder. “Do you have anything for him?”

Hayley swallowed a mouthful of eggs, mouth puckering. She put her purse on her lap, picking at the inside. “Hmm, Xanax? Does that help with pain? I didn’t bring pain pills with me.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just have this packed up, maybe it’ll get better later. I think I’ll just stay back today,” Harry offered. He sounded blasé about it, but it didn’t feel right to Louis. Unless he was planning on playing skiving off only to explore the city with Louis, it didn’t sound like a casual thing that he was unable to bloody chew.

But the topic was over by now, Harry trying to catch one of the servers’ eyes, gesturing to his plate. 

They’d have to deal with it when they were alone. 

 

/

 

Harry had just put two advils on his tongue when Louis spoke, picking this timing specifically so Harry wouldn’t interrupt him. “You know we can find you a doctor that’ll see you today.”

“Who is ‘we’, exactly?” Harry asked, throat bobbing with every swallow of water. He was intent on downing the entire glass.

“You know, us, the team that’s working for your security.”

“This isn’t a security concern, though, is it?”

Louis shrugged. Technically it wasn’t but-- “Niall can do his online thing, find an Anglo doctor in the city who can squeeze you in today. We’ll have a diagnosis in no time, prescriptions, and you can rejoin the amazing adventures of of Nick and Hayley. Or whatever. ”

“Or whatever?” Harry leaned against the door jamb, eyeing Louis suspiciously.

Perhaps Louis had been too eager to share his plan. He’d rarely delivered his suggestions with such enthusiasm before. It probably looked like Louis relished the challenge of Harry’s current predicament. “I’m just saying we can take care of it. And then you can do what you want.”

“I don’t mind staying in. And I don’t need a diagnosis,” he insisted. “I probably need a mouth guard, ‘s all.” 

“If you’re sure,” Louis conceded. If Harry was still having issues when they returned home he’d push again. He didn’t seem to have a problem talking, at least. That had to be a good sign.

Harry pushed the boxed up omelette into Louis’ hands. “I don’t think this will last the day so just have it for lunch if you like, yeah? It shouldn’t go to waste.”

And Harry left for the bedroom. Louis could see him from where he was sat, with the door still cracked open Harry crawled back under the covers, phone in hand. Louis let him be, trying to work on his reports in the kitchen. 

“Have you got a smoke?” Harry asked, which jerked Louis out of his comfort zone. He hadn’t been gone for long, clearly still unsure of what to do for the rest of the day. 

Louis did have cigarettes on him, a habit that was hard to break. He might not smoke on assignment, but that didn’t stop him from indulging before or after a shift. Having a carton on hand helped when he craved a fix and he couldn’t give in, too. Fingering the corners of the carton, reminding himself that he could smoke later if he still needed to. 

“I only have Marlboro, s’that alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry took what he was handed, and opened the door to the small veranda that overlooked the courtyard. There was no one else out there, the cold making Louis’ teeth ache. But they’d only be there for a jiff, it’d be fine.

He didn’t seem to mind Louis’ company, easily leaning on the railing with a sigh. Louis offered to light the cigarette for him, and Harry accepted, eyes flitting over Louis’ hands as he cupped one to create a shield from the wind.

Harry sucked drily at the cigarette, smoke billowing out of his lips. It was making Louis’ own mouth dry, and he dug his thumbnail into the pads of his fingers. Harry was wrapped up in a cardigan, the colourful, animated print seeming an ironic choice considering his current mood. He wasn’t looking anywhere in particular, face tilted towards the sky. 

“How’s your jaw?” Louis asked, just as Harry’s eyes closed.

“The same.”

Louis nodded, fidgeting with the carton of cigarettes. He tapped it against the railing, catching Harry’s eye.

“Are you waiting for my permission to have one?” Harry asked, surprise and skepticism in his voice. His mouth quirked, as if giving his go-ahead for Louis to smoke.

Louis wasn’t waiting for permission, it was just something to do that didn’t involve staring at Harry. But the offer to join in appeared genuine, so he plucked out a cigarette of his own, and lit it quickly, taking one puff before loosening up. 

“Can I ask what you think is going on?” Harry asked after a moment of silence. “You know with the whole-- threat situation? Do you think it’s serious? It’s been quiet hasn’t it?” The questions rolled off his tongue quickly, as if he’d been bottling them up for some time. 

Louis watched the cherry of his cigarette glow as he thought this over. “I still think it’s serious. I don’t know if anyone is going to come after you. Or try to spook you, or whatever. But we know what we’re doing.” He emphasized the ‘we’ to make sure Harry knew he’d be in safe hands even if Louis weren’t there.

“It doesn’t matter that they haven’t found anything yet?”

“No updates just means no updates. There wasn’t a lot to go on.” Harry nodded. He stretched his jaw, wincing as he did. The advils didn’t do much to help, then. 

“Is that what’s stressing you out?” Louis asked. He was getting cold. The chill in the air was biting, and he shivered. 

Harry shrugged, as if the answer was evident. He hadn’t seemed particularly concerned, he was still oddly unaffected about the threat on him. This was the first time he’d asked Louis about it; sought out information on his own. But he’d also been good at shutting Louis out. Maybe he’d been having these talking with Liam all along. Harry leaned over the bannister, sucking at his cigarette. Ribbons of smoke filling the air. 

“My thesis is shit,” Harry said at last, flicking the ashes off the veranda. Watching as it disintegrated on the way down. 

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s too boring. Too predictable.”

Louis didn’t have anything to say, waiting for Harry to continue. It had to be more than that. 

“I thought you know, Orson Welles. References will be easy to find, because it’s _Welles_. And using ‘The Other Side Of The Wind’ would keep it fresh, you know. Since that just came out. It hasn’t been dissected to death yet, or assigned space in his canon. But apparently this one doesn’t count because he didn’t finish it, you know? He died before it was done. So does it fit into his canon? How much can you even attribute to him?” Harry gulped a breath, having run out of air. 

Louis didn’t have anything to counter that with, but from the way Harry shook his head and pulled his cardigan closed around him, it was clear he wasn’t looking for an answer. 

Harry eventually mumbled, “I don’t even fucking like the movie.”

“It’s a pretty awful movie.” Louis was holding back a laugh. Harry was scratching his eyebrow and looked unimpressed. Louis insisted, “I watched it. I was curious.” He shrugged.

Louis had actually tried to watch it, since he’d recognized the title when scrolling through Netflix. He’d barely gotten through half. The weak semblance of plot unravelled quickly and he wouldn’t be able to explain what it was about. He just figured it wasn’t for him; that it was the kind of film that you needed a degree to appreciate. Which was why Harry picked it in the first place.

Harry faced him head on for the first time, lips puckered as he blew out smoke.

“Do you know how many times I’ve had to watch it? Like, ten times at least, in total.” Harry shook his head and took a deep pull from his cigarette, cheeks hollowing. “It doesn’t get better.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Louis said with a snort.

Harry took another drag before flicking the ashes into the ashtray. Louis’ mode was problem solving. Harry had a problem. Something that had stressed him out so much there was a physical reaction. But it could be fixed, it could be addressed. 

“So what are you going to do?”

“Crash and burn.” He seemed serious, like this was the only option he knew of.

“Can you get a new deadline and think of something else? Or just take a break from school for a bit. Sabbaticals, those are a thing for grad school, aren’t they?”

“I already took a semester off this summer. I don’t have anything to do. Go to work for the family business and be reminded that I got there because it was expected? That I’m supposed to deliver something I can’t?”

Harry’s eyes were red rimmed, his nostrils flaring with every deep inhale. He pressed the back of his hand against his face, flattening his nose. 

“Fuck,” he said again. 

Louis didn’t have anything to say. There was nothing _to_ say, really. 

The air felt polluted and thick, astringent as Louis gulped it down. Not because of their smoking, but because of the heaviness Harry seemed to carry with him, the doubt that he’d spilled out.

“Having you guys here. This whole, fucking… _crew_ just watching me. It’s just a fucking reminder, you know? That I’m doing nothing. I’m not worth that effort.” 

He knew this wasn’t part of his role. He could feel it as he moved, watching himself with detachment as his hand reached out, placed it over Harry’s. A comforting gesture with a squeeze. He could feel his pulse in his skin, alive with the breach this entailed.

Harry nearly jerked at the touch, but he blinked at him slowly, a sniff coming. Louis’ entire career was based on accurately predicting what would happen next. Threat assessments, human behaviour and so on.

But for a split second he had no idea what Harry would do next, his fingertips stinging with heat as Harry stepped away and Louis’ hand dropped. He thought Harry was offended at the touch, that he’d walk away, rejecting the small thing Louis could give him.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, Harry’s arms wrapped around his chest, a tight crush of a hug. Louis didn’t hesitate to reciprocate it, thumb digging into the middle of Harry’s back. 

He hadn’t predicted that. And he hadn’t predicted the way his chest sang at the touch, and how he hurt at Harry being hurt. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Harry said pulling away from Louis’ arms. “None of this is your problem anymore. Thanks for the smoke.”

Harry was hurting and Louis was leaving? Was this really what was best for him? He couldn’t help Harry figure out his academic future, or what he wanted to do. But he could make things less difficult by not abandoning him.

He was supposed to help, after all. Not make things worse.

 

/

 

Harry still couldn’t chew by the time their train departed for Toronto. The first thing Harry did was to order a glass of wine, and down it almost immediately. He proceeded to refill his glass with wine they’d smuggled aboard. He polished off a full bottle on his own, but none of them complained. 

After, Nick and Hayley had deli sandwiches to bite into, napkins turning transparent with grease. But Harry had to make do with the soup offered on the train menu. He’d ordered two, and was less than enthusiastic as he slurped at it. At least he didn’t seem as miserable as he’d been just hours earlier. 

Louis picked at his own snacks in his lap. The rest of their car was quite busy, a few people napping and reading, but also a rowdy crowd playing some card game and drinking poorly concealed cans. 

Louis was alright with looking around, and wasn’t too keen on watching Harry. He was leaned against the window, shoulder pressed against the wall. His overfilled glass of wine was perched right at his lips.

Yeah, it was easier to watch the rest of the car than focus on Harry being sullen and still in pain.

 

/

 

Once they returned to Harry’s flat they didn’t leave it for nearly a day. And when they did leave, it was only to pick up the prescription Harry’s doctor had faxed him after a phone consultation. Harry had been correct that there was no diagnosis to be made, apparently. 

When they returned from the pharmacy the concierge at Harry’s building greeted them, informing Harry that he had two packages and an envelope waiting for him. 

Harry grabbed the padded envelope and walked away, leaving Louis to pick up the packages from the back room. Louis couldn’t fault him for wanting to get home quicker, if nothing else then so he could take his medicine, so he let Harry walk ahead. The packages were small and easy to bring up on his own. 

When Louis entered the flat Harry had already sat himself on the sofa, with the telly on. There was an empty DVD case in front of him, as well as a bottle of water. He didn’t acknowledge Louis, already mesmerized with the credits that were rolling on the screen. 

Louis retreated to his room to continue working on his reports. He was off tonight, handing over active duty to Liam. After the trip he had a lot of paperwork to complete, always his favourite part of the gig.

Some time had passed when Louis’ ears perked at a knock on the door. Harry called out to him, asking if he could get it. So Louis padded past the living room where Harry was still glued to the sofa and opened the door to a food delivery. The bloke handed off a bag stuffed with smoothies and soups. Even though this was all Harry could ingest right now, it still seemed like a lot of food. 

“D’you want me to put some of this away?” Louis asked, holding the bag open for Harry. 

“No, some of it is for you,” Harry said. He was half sprawled out on the sofa. He pulled his legs closer to himself, sitting up straighter as Louis approached. “Only fair that you get some too if you pick it up.”

Louis didn’t say anything, but he accepted the unspoken invitation to join Harry on the sofa. 

Harry’s focus remained on the film as he plucked out each food container. The soups came with scones and red pepper jelly, and Harry pushed all them towards Louis. He started on one of the dark purple smoothies. 

The telly was showing a static shot of people on a factory floor. There wasn’t any dialogue, just their movements in the foreground, the sounds of the machines. There hadn’t been much plot from the little of the beginning Louis had seen, and it didn’t look like much had happened since then. 

“What is this?” He asked, because he was getting curious as the scene cut to workers filing into a mess hall, starting to eat their lunches.

“‘Park Lanes’. It’s a documentary, from the filmmaker the New York festival was having a retrospective on.” Harry sucked at his straw. “I didn’t even know it existed on DVD. We were gonna go to the screening when we were there. So I get to see it after all.”

Even as Harry sucked on his straw, he remained transfixed by the screen, which had absolutely nothing worth paying attention to, as far as Louis was concerned. But at least he didn’t seem angry about trading a New York trip for a Montreal one that ended in a hurt jaw. 

“Someone who went down there got it for you?” 

Harry nodded. “That’s what it looks like.” He got more comfortable, sinking into the pillows he’d propped up behind himself. 

Louis tried to get into it, but there was nothing appealing. The muted colours weren't appealing, neither was the visual of workers having meals together. There wasn’t really any dialogue, nor any action, a static shot that lasted for quite some time. He didn’t want to leave Harry just yet. Instead, Louis asked, “How’s your jaw then?”

“The muscle relaxers helped,” Harry said. He did look better; less tense as he lounged on the sofa.

“Is that all they’re doing?”

Harry shrugged. He brought one of the cups of soup to his mouth, gulping some of it down. “They can’t do anything right now. Like I thought I might have to get a mouth guard to sleep with if it happens again.” The twist of his mouth showed his distaste with that plan.

“If it helps it might be a good idea.”

“It’s not like this happens regularly, and I guess I just went really hard that night.” Harry was massaging his jaw as he spoke. 

“Because of stress?”

“I guess.” Harry pressed his lips together. Changing the subject, he asked, “When is Liam coming?”

“End of the day.”

Harry drummed his hands against the counter. He resumed filling up his moka pot, spooning coffee with precision. “And are you coming back after that?”

Louis blinked at him in surprise. “I-- I haven’t really made up my mind yet.” It was true. He didn’t know what would be best, for himself and for Harry. He still thought recusing himself was the most professional thing to do. But that didn’t mean it was the right thing. Harry had struggled to adapt to this arrangement as it was. Removing himself from Harry’s detail would start that cycle all over again. And Harry had so much going on already with reworking his thesis. 

Louis still didn’t know. He kept his eyes trained on the telly, trying to see what Harry saw. There still was no indication that any plot had developed, and yet Harry was focused. He’d been sat here all morning. Louis was starting to get antsy. “Harry, I have to ask, how long is this?” 

“Eight hours.”

Louis didn’t have a verbal reaction to that, his mouth simply going dry, a pointed stare directed at the screen. _Eight hours?_ He got up, rubbing his thighs before gathering their empty bins of soup. He needed to move around for a bit. He’d already felt like he was melting into the cushions. And there were still hours of the film to go. Did it even count as a film at that point, or was it a social experiment to see how many people watched the whole thing? 

“I don’t get the point,” Louis said.

Harry’s brow was furrowed in concentration. His words were measured and slower than normal, explaining, “Technically it’s not a documentary, it’s an experimental film. It relies on spectatorial labour, because we must spend a full day absorbing it, right? We have to figure out what part of this is true and what isn’t. Because if you don’t pay attention you’ll miss the references to cinema verite that are present.”

“You’re gonna have to simplify that, love,” Louis teased. 

Harry swiped his tongue over his lips. “He’s showing a full eight hour work day; but it was a full week of filming. So it’s been edited together. And he’s removed the background sound occasionally, maybe given them direction. Even if he just set up his camera every day, him being there-- it’s going to change things. So it’s up to us, the audience, to figure out what parts are true and what’s affected by him being there.” He looked at Louis with curiosity, waiting for him to confirm he understood.

“I think I get it.”

Harry continued, eager to share his knowledge, “The opposite of that is when documentarians interact with their subjects on purpose, because that’s the most authentic situation you can capture on film. There’s no pretending then, just two poles colliding and working things out.”

“It’s a bit like us, then, isn’t it?” Louis had been under the assumption that the best way to serve the assignment was to be in the background. But it hadn’t mattered. His presence alone had been disruptive to Harry, no matter how discreet they’d been. That’s when they’d had the most strife, because Louis’ professional presence chafed against the corners of Harry’s life. 

Was it better for them to let the collision exist, because it was all in the open then? Louis was starting to doubt his philosophy, at least in this scenario.

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry said, chewing at his lip. He took another sip of his water before placing it back on the table. His moves were so deliberate it looked like he was just busying himself. Keeping himself from doing something else.

This realization, along with the reminder that Harry would be miserable if his routine would change again-- Louis knew that he had to stick it out. It’s what was best, for everyone involved.

Before he regretted it, before he changed his mind, Louis said, “I’ll stay.” 

The buzzing of a saw was loud from the speakers, but Harry’s attention had shifted entirely to Louis. Harry was still bleary eyed, his hair a proper mess. The hint of stubble lining his cheeks. But his eyes were clear and focused. 

“Yeah?” Harry asked. One syllable, imbued with so much meaning. 

Louis nodded. “At least until the gala,” he felt the need to specify. He couldn’t guarantee things wouldn’t change by then. But for now, Harry needn’t worry.

A smile broke out over Harry’s face. Dimple popping on one side. His hand formed a fist, as if to stop from reaching out to Louis.

Instead, Harry rolled his lips inward. He was closer, no longer leaning back in his seat but towards Louis instead. “What about…” Harry’s tongue poked out of his mouth. As if he hadn’t spent the past three days whining about his pain, now he was being seductive.

Louis swallowed.

The damage was done, wasn’t that his verdict? They’d pulled through once, what was the harm in doing it again?

“I guess…we can take it as it comes?”

“Pun intended?” Harry asked with a wicked grin. 

“Sure,” Louis said. There was a laugh at the end of the word, but it died in his throat when Harry scooted even closer. Louis had meant it, he’d meant they could take it as it would come. If either of them were tempted again they could make a move.

But he expected to have more time to process it. Not have to deal with it immediately. Harry’s movie was still on, for Chrissakes!

Louis tried to keep his breathing steady He didn’t move, didn’t straighten his back, or pull his legs closer to himself. He remained reclined in the sofa, as Harry approached with a mission plain on his face.

“Can I….” Harry started, his fingers going straight for the waistline of Louis’ joggers. He didn’t pull them down, just tugged at the fabric with a promise.

Louis didn’t trust his voice. He nodded quickly. “Uh huh,” the only assent he could give, tongue stuck to roof of his mouth, teeth aching with how much he wanted what Harry was offering. 

Harry bit his lip. His hand moved from Louis’ trousers and traveled up his belly to his chest. He pushed at Louis, gentle but firm, urging him to lean back further. 

Louis slid down the sofa some more, so that he more lying down than sitting. Harry’s eyes raked over him, and his own shirt was off in an instant. His fingers worked his fly open as he moved to straddle Louis. There was some shuffling involved to get comfortable, but they got there with Harry’s knees squeezing Louis’ hips. 

The way Harry looked at him sometimes was paralyzing, and this was one of those instances. Like he wanted to consume him whole, meld with him. And right now he was looking at Louis like that, and leaning in to kiss him, not closing his eyes.

At this point Louis was just along for the ride. He didn’t know what had come over Harry, but he wasn’t going to inquire. 

It was frantic, the way that Harry’s hands pushed Louis’ shirt up, trailing along the spasming muscles of his belly as he tried to stay still. This wasn’t the norm for him, just staying still, but Harry seemed to need something and by Christ if he wasn’t turned on.

His shirt was rucked up under his arms, and Harry thumbed along his nipples. Louis held his breath as Harry nosed along his skin. His tongue dipped into his navel and then lower, wetting the entirety of his lower stomach.

He palmed Louis’ erection through his shorts, a firm pressure that left Louis hissing. “Fuck,” he muttered, and it seemed to snap Harry’s attention to his face. He stared at him as he pulled the shorts down.

Slipping onto the floor, Harry took Louis’ shorts with him as he went, and spread Louis’ legs so he could fit between them. His plump lips kissing the head of his cock, ready to take him into his mouth--

Louis jerked back instantly, “No-- don’t--” Louis started, tipping Harry’s head back up. “Let’s not make your jaw worse, yeah?” He said, rubbing at the skin of Harry’s chin. The stubble was rough against his fingertips. 

Harry blinked, but nodded against Louis’ hands. “I’ve got a better idea,” Harry said, smirking with his tongue still out. His trousers and pants slid off his legs, kicked to the side, and he got back up on the sofa. 

The sofa dipped under Louis as Harry came closer. Soon, Louis couldn’t focus on anything other than Harry’s palms stroking the tops his thighs, the way each hair stood on end at the contact. 

Louis was so, so hard. And Harry had only touched him briefly, pressed his erection against Louis’ skin. Making him buck into the touch. “This could’ve been my mouth,” Harry teased, with his palm heavy and hot against Louis’ tender skin. 

Harry’s mouth was slack as his hands roamed over Louis’ body. If he couldn’t taste him, apparently he wanted to touch. Map out every inch of skin and memorize it.

“Harry--” Louis chased his touch. He blinked unhappily at Harry when he sat up. His hands weren’t touching Louis’ skin, and he needed it. 

Harry adjusted them so he straddled Louis again, one hand finding Louis’ chest. His fingers plucking at the bunched up shirt that was covering Louis’ collarbones. 

Harry’s other hand was jerking his own cock. His breath was steady, hot puffs of it kissing Louis’ skin. His gaze electric as he maintained eye contact. 

The air they shared was heavy and intimate. Louis was so turned on, he felt like he might burst, just from fucking having Harry wank over him. He hardly recognized himself. His own chest heaving with every breath. The clothes that were half on soaked in sweat. 

He eagerly palmed the tops of Harry’s thighs, the lean muscles tensed tight. He needed to touch him. “You’re so hot. Got me so hard just touching yourself.”

Harry grunted in response. He leaned closer, the tip of his tongue visible in his open mouth. He was still working himself over steadily, the slick sounds lapping at Louis’ ears. He was being watched while Harry touched himself, but still Louis felt consumed. He felt at Harry’s mercy, and he didn’t mind.

Harry’s thumb dipped into Louis’ mouth, pulling it open, pressing against the inside of his lip. Harry stared at him so directly that Louis nearly wanted to hide, but instead he went toward it.

He sucked on Harry’s thumb before pushing it out of his mouth. “Come,” he said, tipping his chin up. “On my face.” 

Harry’s response was non-verbal, a guttural sound coming from his throat before he was on Louis. His skin overheated as Harry hovered over Louis. He pumped himself frantically, and Louis dipped his tongue out. Harry pulled at the side of his mouth, stretching it open. He smeared his wet cock against his lip, watching as the tip of Louis’ tongue licked him.

The last thing Louis saw before he closed his eyes was Harry going stiff, his grip nearly stuttering. He came all over Louis’ face, spurts hitting his cheeks, nose and mouth. He stuck out his tongue and licked his lips. Harry grunted, and the weight of his presence disappeared.

Louis opened his eyes to Harry having collapsed back on the opposite side of the sofa, his arm propped up by a decorative pillow. 

Louis was still hard, and Harry’s flushed face and splotchy chest made it all the worse. He got up on his knees and came closer to Harry. His own fist around his cock. 

Harry blinked at him, his eyes travelling over the parts of Louis’ face that he’d marked.

Harry reached out. His thumb against Louis’ cheek, pressing into the flesh and dragging it down to Louis’ mouth. He was feeding Louis his come, and Louis sucked his thumb dry. 

“Fuck,” Harry said, mouth slack and open. Louis kept sucking at his thumb, almost a challenge for Harry to press more fingers into his mouth, but nothing happened. Harry was still hypnotized by this sight alone.

Which was fine. Harry stroked Louis’ belly, pinched his nipples. Louis didn’t need all of that, he was too far gone already, moments away from coming. But Harry’s delicate touches zapped along his skin. The hairs of his arms standing up just as he aimed his cock against Harry’s chest as he came.

He couldn’t help it, he pushed his hand against it and wiped it all over Harry’s skin. It would be disgusting in no time, but he felt it necessary. Harry had marked him too, after all.

He needed to get it off himself before it dried and became painful to scrub off. Harry seemed to have the same idea and wandered off. He returned with a clean chest and a wet flannel that he handed Louis.

As Louis wiped his face clean, Harry was gathering his clothes. He wasn’t getting dressed, just picking them up, holding them close to his chest. 

“I like you better like this.”

“Non-verbal?”

“Unguarded, you rascal,” Harry said. He was poking Louis in the chest, trying to tickle him. Louis was easy for it, still coming down to properly regulate his feelings. His belly swooped, watching Harry get dressed. The way his dimple seemed carved into his cheek. 

“Are you going to freak out again?” Harry asked. The question was unexpected, cutting to the quick. Harry’s shoulder blades flexing, the dip of his spine more pronounced in that light, in that moment. “This isn’t going to be a problem?” Harry turned just the slightest bit towards Louis when he askedwith. the light coming in from the window casting his face in shadow. Louis couldn’t differentiate more than the curve of his profile. Still, he thought there was something more open in Harry’s voice.

“No,” Louis said. He had to believe that he’d be fine. 

“Good,” Harry said, and left Louis to collect himself.

Louis padded back to his room, straightening out his shirt as he went, his shorts in hand. He probably wouldn’t put those back on. 

It was only when he caught sight of the clock in the room that he realized Liam was due any second. He’d barely snuck this transgression under the wire. The clothes he had on reeked of sex, and he couldn’t go out and walk around like this. Let alone speak with Liam.

The shirt came off and joined his shorts in his bag. He’d have to get changed quickly, no time for a shower, not without raising suspicions. And Liam was never late. He could probably explain the mess with him being ill. Yes, that would excuse the sweat as well, and being out of breath.

There was a knock on the door and it opened, simultaneously. Louis knew instantly that it was Liam, since that was how he knocked. Harry must’ve let him in. Louis hadn’t even heard the knock on the front door.

“Don’t come in!” Louis warned. The door was half open, but he was stood on the right side out of sight. He scrambled for clothes while Liam waited for him. He could practically sense Liam’s confused energy coming at him from just past the door.

“Louis. Are you wanking? You’re still on the clock, you know.” Liam’s voice was clear and earnest. 

“I’m just not feeling well,” Louis said, trying to save the situation. Joggers and a sweater were on, he just swung his knapsack over his shoulders. He opened the door wide, letting Liam in, even though he still didn’t feel mentally prepared for company. It was fine, he could decompress on the walk back. 

“You should probably wash the sheets,” Louis said, lacing up his shoes. Liam made a noise of disgust. It was a fair comment if Louis had been sick, but unfortunately it also fit with Liam’s scenario. It didn’t seem like Louis was doing anything right.

“This is workplace harassment,” Liam said seriously. As if he hadn’t sleepwalked into Louis’ bed at the shared flat and demanded he sleep there because he preferred Louis’ mattress. Who knew where he even slept these days, since their free nights never overlapped.

“Reports are, uh--” Louis looked around, trying to remember if he even finished them. He hadn’t filled in anything since joining Harry for lunch in the living room. But it’s not like he would want to share that. 

The reports themselves had last been on the desk. Or the side of the bed? He tried to sound confident, “--should be on the desk.”

“Alright,” Liam just nodded along. He stretched out his shoulders. “How’s his...?” he gestured towards his jaw.

“It’s fine.” Louis’ breath punched out of him, still reeling from his romp with Harry. He managed to pretend that it was just in response to Liam. “You can say ‘jaw’, you know, he’s not that sensitive about it. He’s got a prescription for some muscle relaxers. He just needs time and less stress.”

“Less stress, okay,” Liam repeated, as if he tried to figure out what he specifically could do to help. Maybe he’d encourage Harry to pick up soothing herbal tea blends. 

“Listen, Louis--” Liam started, serious, “Niall mentioned something about you talking replacements?” 

Louis wiped at his chin with the back of his hand. He shook his head. Bloody Niall. “I was just thinking about what standard protocol is. And that’s part of it. Having a rotation.” It was a shit excuse but it was all he could come up with. 

“Nothing about this case is standard, Louis, you taught us that,” Liam said with a frown. “Have you hit a wall?”

He shook his head, unable to think of an excuse to pull. He couldn’t talk to Liam about this. Even though he felt like he was doing the right thing by staying on it still wasn’t something he could talk about. 

They only had a few minutes for themselves to debrief anyway, and it was just as well. Because if Louis was faced with Liam’s concerned puppy dog eyes any longer he might’ve caved. Might’ve said that Liam shouldn’t worry about Louis because he made his own bed. 

“Just go inside, Li.”

“I think you’re doing a great job, you know? Good team lead.” Liam pressed his closed fist against Louis’ chest, a gesture that relayed deep respect. 

“Thanks,” Louis said. He couldn’t absorb the compliment, though. Not with the taste of Harry’s come still on his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- [The Mont Royal Cross at night.](https://farm5.static.flickr.com/4873/32037126468_055c810eaf_b.jpg)  
> \- ["Park Lanes" by Kevin Jerome Everson is a real movie, and it really is eight hours.](https://letterboxd.com/film/park-lanes/)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

The highlight of Louis’ time off was attending a footie match. It wasn’t the same as back home; the league smaller, less embedded in the culture of the city and the stadium was small, reminding him of what high school sports looked like on telly. The announcer had claimed that the stadium was sold out despite the many, many empty seats Louis could spot. 

But the fans were enthusiastic, and he spotted a few families in the stands waving their team flannels.There was face paint and groups of friends in jerseys, standing up and booing at the right times. Besides, the beer was cold and foamy straight from the can, and he’d even gotten a hot dog. The atmosphere was good, the joviality contagious, and despite being alone it all helped to make Louis feel a bit more at home, at least. He might try to convince Niall into coming next time. 

Louis cheered for the visiting team simply because they were doing better, their skills on proper show when they scored their fourth goal. The Toronto fans were downcast over the loss as the game dragged on. They scored one goal just before the end of the second half, fireworks splitting the sky at the cheer that overtook the stadium. 

It overtook Louis, too, the joy overwhelming him. By the time the match wrapped up, the stadium still cheered for the winners, a polite congratulations, and there was a band of supporters that chanted as they spilled out onto the street. 

A few people were still carrying their beers, tucking them into their bags as they passed security and hefting them to their lips afterward. They seemed unbothered by the chill that had slipped below Louis’ zipped up jacket, and he burrowed his chin into his collar as he observed some of the men’s bare arms. He could see himself as one of them, at another time. But being alone was making him painfully aware of the way the wind chafed against his skin.

The stream of people led the way towards the tram station, and Louis allowed himself to be swept along. He was planning on walking home, but it was easier to follow the tide until they passed the station. 

There was an underpass that lead beyond the tram station and into the heart of downtown; a quick easy route on a regular day, but with the crowd Louis didn’t want to go that way. Instead he diverted and followed the tram tracks. He passed the outdoor platform, fenced off and quickly filling up with impatient commuters. 

Louis wasn’t the only one taking a different path, a group of women ahead of him running across the tram tracks to cross the street. A few people behind him followed the girls’ leads, and there were a few hurried shouts as a tram approached in the distance. 

Louis wasn’t in a hurry, happy to walk into the dark of the night, looking up at the nearly full moon. The beer had settled in his belly, and he felt content to take his time. He could see the whole city as he approached, the multitude of high rises and the choreographed light show of the CN tower in the distance casting a welcoming glow over the skyline. He wished he’d brought a scarf with him, though. He opted to pull at his collar instead to cover his neck from the wind. 

Once Louis crossed the overpass that brought them downtown the crowd thinned out significantly. He’d paid attention to the people around him, a force of habit. The couple on a date ran to make a light and catch their Uber, a group of friends came to a halt in front of him, blocking the way as they hugged goodbye, and a teenager ducked into the Pizza Nova on the corner.

Louis followed the kid inside on reflex. He wasn’t that hungry, but the shop was a warm oasis on the way home. He could certainly eat a slice to soak up some of the beer. 

The spot was busy for a weeknight, and Louis scored the last pepperoni slice. Most people left cradling their slices, but Louis decided to stay inside for a while longer. Leaning against one of the high tables, he had a good view of the street outside. 

His slice had been too hot to eat right away, and he pinched the edged with his fingers.The crust was a bit thick for his taste, his jaw working it over, but the sauce was alright. He licked his fingers clean when he was done, not wasting a single crumb, and wiped himself clean with his napkin, balling it up and tossing it right into the bin. 

When Louis stepped back outside, he felt slightly inured to the chill, and his stride was faster. He was tired from a day well spent, and he couldn’t wait to take a hot shower and crawl into bed. There was no zebra crossing and the streets were mostly empty, but he did a quick check anyway before crossing.

It registered just as he stepped on the pavement. There had been no cars or cyclists to look out for, but there was a bloke that he caught sight of that looked familiar. Louis had seen him earlier that night, exiting the stadium, colliding with a teenager who apologized for it while he shrank away.

Louis itched to turn around again and make sure that he wasn’t imagining things, but that was the opposite of what he needed to do. If he was being tailed it was best to hide that he’d noticed.

So Louis didn’t break his stride and didn’t speed up. He kept his steps measured, feeling the adrenaline pump through his veins. He kept his fists clenched in his pockets as he considered his alternatives. 

His best shot at losing the bloke was to find a crowd to get lost in. This part of downtown was dead at this time of night and there was nothing on the way to the flat so he’d have to detour. He’d have to pass the flat and head toward the downtown arena where there was sure to be a concert or a hockey game or something of the sort, and that type of crowd would be even easier to get lost in. He winced to himself, the comfort of his bed would have to wait just a little bit longer.

Louis steered towards the downtown arena, listening for the steps of someone behind him, but the sound of his own footfalls and breath were in the foreground. He could sense it, though, the bloke’s presence.

Louis couldn’t turn around, and he couldn’t hear him, but he _felt_ it. He was being followed. By someone who knew what they were doing, apparently, since Louis only spotted him by chance. 

It made the inside of Louis’ chest itch. He wasn’t nervous; he was aching for a confrontation, to put his training into use. It wouldn’t happen, he knew that, he just had to get a good look at the bloke and get away. But damn if he didn’t want to get in his face and ask who he was working for. 

Louis stepped into Union station when he got there. There were people around, but not enough that he wouldn’t be noticed. With the construction of the station still ongoing it gave him more places to duck and hide, and he skittered down the stairs to the subway. 

A train must’ve just come in because the crowd was pouring past the turnstiles, inadvertently offering him cover. He shrugged his jacket off as he ducked past the crowd, to stand behind the ticket booth. It was a good spot to take off his jacket, cold be damned. He folded it and held it under his arms. Any change in appearance was a positive at this point, even if that was all he could do. 

Louis’ pulse wasn’t racing. He wasn’t shaking, or trembling. He was hyper aware of what was going on though, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he trained his eyes on the entrance he’d come down. It was filled up with people going up the stairs, leaving the station but there was a lone figure trying to go against the stream, brim of his hat covering his face.

The same bloke that had followed Louis earlier, Louis was certain of it. His chest was heaving as his eyes darted across the station in search of Louis.

He seemed to be moving in slow motion, but that was really all down to Louis’ perception. Louis was hyper-aware of every move the bloke made. To any casual onlooker it would seem like he was searching for someone he knew. But Louis knew better than that, he knew it was him the bloke was looking for. 

When the man finally turned around, Louis took his chance and escaped into the underground path. Louis’ steps echoed as passed the closed shops and took deliberate strides towards the closest exit. He couldn’t look behind himself now, he had to keep going.

Louis jogged up the first set of stairs he encountered two steps at a time. He was out of breath when he emerged above ground. He was a block away from the station, with a good view of the exit. He ducked around a corner and waited to see if the bloke stepped out of the exit.

Louis checked his watch, waiting for five minutes exactly. No one emerged, which could be classified as a victory; he’d lost the tail. The throb of his pulse in his ears was unrelenting. But he didn’t mind. He knew what he had to do next.

Louis quickly returned toward the arena, getting swallowed up in the crowd. He picked up a shirt from one of the street vendors outside, as well as a baseball cap. He put the cap on and knotted the shirt around his throat. It wasn’t much, but hopefully he’d be unrecognizable at a quick glance should the bloke catch up with him.

He didn’t risk returning home on foot; hailing a cab and hopping in before mentioning his destination.

 

/

 

It was only once Louis stepped into the flat that he gathered his breath. His eyes closed with the force of it, his mouth watering at the excess adrenaline that had no place to go. 

He yanked at the door knob just to make sure it was locked and he stayed there, with his fist pressed against the wall as he took in his surroundings. The beat of his heart steadied and his breathing less shallow. The flat was the same as always, Niall with his feet kicked up on the coffee table and his laptop perched on his thighs.

Niall looked less relaxed than usual, though, having witnessed Louis’ entrance, his head cocked in Louis’ direction. “Y’alright? D’you square up with some hooligans?”

“Someone followed me from the footie match,” Louis said.

“Okay, not hooligans I gather,” Niall said, nodding in understanding, the lines on his face going tense. He hugged his mug of tea closer, and to his credit, didn’t ask Louis if he was sure. He knew better than that. 

Louis was going to have a beer. One that would slide down his throat and still his stomach and numb the impulse he had to make a rash decision.

“Can you take it from the start, mate?” 

Louis kept guzzling down his beer, it was cold enough to be tasteless but still enough to fill him up. He wiped his mouth once he was done drinking. “I only noticed him once I left the match.”

“And you definitely can’t remember seeing him before now?”

Louis shook his head. His fringe was getting long, the ends nearly falling into his eyes. He swooped it away, and adjusted his cap. “I made sure to get a good look, so if he pops up again--”

Niall grimaced, shaking his head. “Physical appearance is easy to change.”

Louis took another drink of his beer. “Yeah, I know.” He took off his cap, untied the sweater still around his neck and dropped it on the counter. “I did a bit of changing meself.” He shuddered at the change in temperature, the heat blasting in the flat. He was going to fall ill from all these temperature changes. “I looked at his face. Takes a lot to change that. He’s not going change body shape anytime soon either.”

“Alright. So if we looked at some tapes do you reckon you’d recognize him?” 

Louis’ lips rolled inward as he considered it. “Depends on the screen resolution, I guess.”

This ignited a spark of excitement in Niall’s eyes and he fetched one of his notepads. He was on a mission to mine data, his favourite thing to do. “We’ll get the footage from downstairs, going back as far as possible. Haven’t talked to them before, but we’ve been good tenants, should be easy to convince them...” Niall muttered, scrunching his nose. It wasn’t directed at Louis, Niall tapping the pen against the paper, deep in thought.

“What else?” Louis asked, watching as Niall’s thoughts flowed onto the page.

“We could also try to find him again… That’s more proactive, and could be more effective. Not efficient though,” Niall mumbled, his mouth pulling at his last sentence. He was talking to himself, Louis realized, when Niall didn’t look at him once.

Louis was the subject now, however temporarily and Niall had gotten snowed in on thinking up more and more outlandish ways to catch the bloke. Heck, he might be trying to decide if outfitting Louis with a bodycam would be logistically feasible and if Steve would sign off on it. 

Louis felt feverish at the thought of being cornered like that, his skin itching as he thought about the discussion he had to have with Steve. The beer tasted wrong in his mouth, the grassy taste making him want to spit it out.  
“Don’t think of anything too intrusive, alright?” Louis told Niall, who quickly nodded his acknowledgement. It was also possible he just heard Louis speak without taking anything in and thought a nod was likely the most appropriate response. 

As long as Louis wouldn’t be bothered for the rest of the night, it didn’t matter. He had to find the right reports to file. The best way to approach this and show Steve that he was unaffected was to think about his situation clinically. Ultimately this was no different than any other case. 

This could be good for the case, Louis told himself. Locked up in his room, sitting cross legged on the bed with his reports spread out, he started to connect the dots for himself. 

There was a possibility that Louis being tailed was unrelated to Harry, Anne, and Gemma. It would be intellectually dishonest to deny that, as unlikely and coincidental as that would be. He couldn’t approach this looking for a connection; it had to become apparent on its own. 

On the plus side: Louis knew what the bloke looked like. And while eyewitnesses weren’t the most reliable, he had been trained in exactly this. If they could identify him it could help them narrow down any potential associations with the Twist Corporation. 

But the downside was that if Louis was being targeted as well--regardless of whether it was related to Harry or not--it would likely jeopardize the safety of the mission. 

Louis might have to step away, his stomach roiling at the thought, the taste of the beer tickling the back of his throat. He’d nearly stepped away on his own terms not too long ago, but since then… He’d not only gotten comfortable with the idea of staying on, he’d also been enjoying himself more. 

Louis had started to get into the idea that he would be there when the threat was neutralized. That he’d get to deliver the good news to Harry himself, since he’d be the one to relay that information. 

He might even have started to picture the way they would hug, elation sparking through their bodies. Perhaps it was a bit premature, but Louis had no doubt they’d figure out who was threatening the Styles-Twist family. There were too many professionals involved for them to fail. He still believed that, but now he just might not be around to celebrate it.

 

/

 

Steve’s voice came through the computer speakers clear as day, each purposeful word filling the air around them. Louis had only been reprimanded in Steve’s office a couple of times, but this felt more ominous, even though they’d nothing wrong. It was just the way his voice filled the room.

Unfortunately, since Niall had insisted on being part of the discussion, Steve needed to be on speakerphone and Louis just had to put up with it. To Louis’ pleasure, Niall’s eager suggestion that they outfit Louis with high tech equipment to capture the bloke was shot down immediately.

“I think the worst thing that could happen right now would be for them to realize that you _know_ they’re watching you. The only mistake you can make now is to change your habits,” Steve said.

Louis exhaled in relief, but he’d caught the temporary tone in what Steve was saying. “So I should stay on Harry’s detail,” he said, just to verify the situation. 

“For the time being, yes.” Steve paused, and Louis wished he could see him, could get something to go on as to what Steve was thinking, his voice still maddeningly neutral. Steve continued, “We might have to look into this in a fortnight, however. There will be a meeting to re-evaluate the strategy when you’re here for the gala. We might have to shuffle people around.”

“Right.” Louis swallowed, his lungs feeling wrung out. That was it then, wasn’t it? There was no chance that they’d make it to London without Louis being pulled off of Harry’s case. Could he have done anything different? Was it his fault that he was caught? He had no protests in him, none that would have any impact and wouldn’t sound like desperate pleas to stay on. At least.

“Anything else?” Steve asked.

Niall’s expression remained intense, brows furrowed, but he reacted to the question, his chin tilting up as if he’d just thought of something. He pressed his knuckles against his mouth before speaking. “What if they’re trying to get to Harry through Louis? They might not know who he is, they might think he’s just a good friend or boyfriend. Perfect to rattle him, innit? Spook the guy spending all this time with him?” Niall was on a roll now, licking his lips. The lack of response from Steve wasn’t slowing him down one bit. “It’s what they did with Gemma, isn’t it? They didn’t get to her directly. And Harry’s flat is far too secure for them to get in there. So this was the only thing they could get away with. Track Louis down when he’s on his own.”

Niall finished with a flourish, happy with his conclusion.

Louis grimaced. “They would assume security measures have been taken. It makes more sense that they’d guess I’m his bodyguard than just a friend.”

“Does it?” Niall was skeptical. “You’re blending in real well, I reckon.” 

There might’ve been an edge of something else in Niall’s words, but there was no time for Louis to dissect it. 

“Your theory only makes sense if they were meant to be seen, if I was supposed to spot him.” Louis shook his head. “

“Maybe they just haven’t made their move yet,” Niall’s excuse came easily. They faced each other.

Louis had nearly forgotten Steve was on the line, and his throat jumped when he spoke. “You both have good points. They may not have realized you, specifically, are part of his security detail. But they might know and still be using you to get to Harry. It’s possible,” Steve’s voice went up on his last sentence. He sounded like he was laying the verdict for a debate class. 

But Louis was going to lean into it, this brief hope that people might think their mission wasn’t compromised, and hoping that his change of tune wouldn’t be too out of place. “If they don’t know who I am it’s best to stay on, isn’t it.” Louis was worrying his nails against the grooves of the table. Digging, pushing, as he tried to keep himself at bay.

“Yes, for now,” Steve reiterated. The conversation was done and the call was wrapped up. 

Louis let out a long breath. The discussion wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been but-- Fuck, everything was so complicated. 

Liam would have to be informed, of course. So far he’d only received a text telling him to be extra stealthy, with no context. Niall would have to be responsible for relaying the details, though, since it was too much to cover during the switchover.

Niall set out to construct a computer generated sketch of what the bloke looked like based on Louis’ description. Even though Louis had only seen the guy from afar, he’d made sure to pay attention once he spotted him, so it was easy to direct Niall on what his stalker’s features were. It was certainly possible that he’d been wearing a disguise, but the arch of his brows, the shape of his nose, those things wouldn’t vary. 

Louis was going on shift at the end of the day, which meant he wouldn’t be able to sit through the first pass of the security tapes with Niall. Not that he could contribute much to it other than some silent fretting. His own sense of control was being encroached on, and it made him uncomfortable.

 

/

 

Things approximated normal when Louis was back on duty with Harry. 

Despite the agreement that things remain routine, Louis was grateful that Harry wanted to grab breakfast out before class on Tuesday. It was a deviation from the schedule, however small, but Louis enjoyed thinking it would throw off whoever was watching them. 

“What did you do on your time off?” Harry asked, bringing his coffee to his mouth. They sat by the windows at the Tim’s near campus. It was busy with students and businessmen this early in the morning, Harry joining the long queue while Louis saved them a seat.

Harry had gotten an extra large black coffee and two breakfast wraps, one of which he’d already eaten half of, the other still wrapped up in front of him.

Louis had asked Harry to pick a drink for him, and he’d ended up with a classic double double. It was recommended, Harry had said with a sly smile and dimple out, but it was milky and sweet enough to hurt his teeth. It felt more like a caffeinated sweet drink than a coffee.

“Went to see the local footy team get demolished. I was told they were good but--” Louis puffed his cheeks out in skepticism.

“Oh?” Harry raised his eyebrows. “Do you catch a lot of matches back home then?” His eyes went wide before he lowered his voice to ask, “Have you worked with any of them? They need people too, don’t they?”

Louis pressed his lips together to hide a smile. “They have their own teams. But that’d be fun, yeah. Good gig if you get it.”

“It’d probably be difficult to focus on the job with that kind of assignment though.” Harry considered this as he took another bite of his wrap, tongue first. 

Louis hadn’t told Harry about the discovery that there was someone on his tail. He wasn't sure if it was worth mentioning, really. It didn’t actually change anything for Harry. He was already working under the presumption that he, himself, might be followed. But Louis questioned whether he might want to know if Louis was in danger as well.

It wouldn’t serve any purpose. If anything it might add more stress to Harry’s plate. Which was the last thing Louis wanted.

“So what team do you support then?” Harry asked. He was nearly done with his wrap. A piece of bacon was sticking out and he tugged at it, picking it out and eating it on its own. 

Louis stopped himself from snorting, air getting stuck at the bottom of his throat. Harry looked on curiously as he coughed. This wasn’t the appropriate time to get into this topic, there possibly wasn’t ever a good time. He glanced at the clock. “Shouldn’t we be getting to class?” 

“Sensitive topic?” Harry raised his eyebrows. He smoothed out his sandwich wrapper and folded it into a square. “Or are you just that eager to learn more about Spheeris’ techniques?” 

“I cannot wait,” Louis said with a wide grin, emphasizing each of the words. Just because a question was rhetorical it didn’t mean he couldn’t answer. 

Louis binned his coffee on the way out, his cup still nearly full, using the excuse that his hands needed to be free -- even though they were headed to a two hour lecture where he would be sitting in one place, anyway. 

He held the door open for Harry after he’d left the shop, scanning the street around them. Harry bumped into him on the way out, reaching out his hand towards him. 

“For you,” Harry said, palm open. He was handing Louis the second breakfast wrap he’d ordered. The one that Louis had eyed hungrily, the warm scent of it alone enough to make his stomach grumble. 

Louis took it on reflex, slipping it into his pocket. Still, he said, “You know I can’t--” 

“You’re just going to be sitting in that room with me for two hours. Nothing’s going to happen. You can definitely have breakfast.” There was no point in arguing with Harry, clearly.

The wrap was still hot in Louis’ pocket when they took their seats in class. It was the documentary seminar, and Harry’s preferred seat was close to Caro’s. They were absorbed in the seminar, and Louis fingered at the paper on his wrap. Harry had a point; they weren’t leaving this room for two hours. Louis could surely spend a quick five minutes eating breakfast while they were there.

He carefully pulled the wrap out of his pocket. It was still warm, and his mouth watered. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself. There were people at the front of the class with coffee cups, and he’d seen people eat in seminars before. But it still felt forbidden, this small act of having a bite to eat.

Louis did it though, lifting the wrap to his mouth. He glanced in Harry’s direction to see if he noticed that Louis had taken him up on his offer. Harry didn’t look back directly at him, but Louis could’ve sworn he saw Harry’s mouth quirk in Louis’ direction.

Following the class, Harry and Caro headed toward the media commons to start a marathon studying session. 

While they were in one of the viewing rooms, having booked it to watch a rare Flaherty film Louis remained on watch among the stacks. It was the first moment Louis had to himself. His attention was solely needed on the door to the viewing room, which left Louis with too much space to think and worry.

Louis took the opportunity to text Niall, asking how Liam was faring with the news. 

Louis chewed at his lip as he fingered the edges of his phone. He hadn’t heard from either Niall or Liam since going back on shift, and there was an edge of unreality to the routine he’d resumed. It was like nothing had even happened, things were normal. Louis had to reassure himself, somehow, that what had happened the day before wasn’t something he imagined.

**He thinks he’s uncompromised,** Niall’s text started. **Didn’t recognize the guy from the composite. Since he’s with Harry less often he probably hasn’t stood out at all.**

Louis wasn’t sure whether this was a relief or a stressor, that he was seemingly the only one targeted. He pocketed his phone and leaned back in his chair. He ha been paying extra attention, his situational alertness at an all time high but he hadn’t noticed the bloke who followed him, or anyone else keeping an eye on them. No one in the library seemed to care about him, a few people waiting for their turn in the room Harry and Caro were using, but that was it. 

It just didn’t feel possible that Louis would’ve been the only one targeted. There wasn’t even any hint that Harry was being watched so far. Louis allowed the thoughts and questions to bloom in his mind, coming to the forefront, acknowledging them before moving on. It just didn’t seem right, but he wasn’t in a place where he could pinpoint exactly what was off.

 

/

 

By the time Harry and Louis returned to the loft it was nearing dusk. Harry had done some grocery shopping, a bag in each hand, the plastic stretched thin from the weight of the contents. They spilled onto the kitchen counter when Harry dropped them. 

At the shop the cashier had asked if Louis would like to help his boyfriend carry their groceries, the affront in her voice clear that he’d let Harry take care of both. Harry had smirked, a tilt to his head that belied satisfaction, as if he were pleased she thought they were together. 

Harry didn’t correct her, but he did say that they were fine. “It’s a great work out.” He’d flexed his arms as he picked up his bags, the movement noticeable even under this thick winter jacket. 

Louis gave the cashier a tight lipped smile and followed closely of Harry’s heels. Harry’s smug grin was still in place when Louis caught up with him, even as they stepped back into their waiting car. 

Back at the flat, Harry unpacked his groceries carefully, leaving out the ingredients he wanted to use in his salad. A mix of cheese, tomatoes, boiled eggs and ham were piling up next to his bowl.

“Did you talk to Caro about that factory documentary?” Louis asked. He held his breath as he took a seat on the sof, not quite knowing what to do with himself. He was trying to make himself comfortable and relaxed. They were isolated and locked into the flat; safe. Yet he wanted to crack his knuckles and keep an eye out. He hadn’t overheard any conversations about it, but Louis might’ve tuned it out in his eagerness to absorb every detail of what surrounded Harry rather than what he was up to.

Harry cracked open one of the bottles of kombucha and shook his head while he drank. “I wanted to watch the whole thing first. Which--” Harry turned to Louis, an accusatory spark in his eyes. “--I plan on doing today, so don’t distract me, alright?”

“The whole thing? From the start?” Louis asked, although he knew the answer. 

“Yep!” Harry declared as he continued to chop his salad. 

Louis hummed his understanding. It was the response he’d expected but it still made little sense to him, sitting and watching something for eight hours. Besides, there had been plenty of time for Harry to watch the rest of the film while Louis was away, but he hadn’t even moved the DVD case, still atop an emptied padded envelope on the coffee table. 

When Louis lifted the case a note slipped from inside. The thick paper was slightly bigger than a business card, the edges rough. 

**Sorry you missed it x** was typed up. 

“Where did it come from?” Louis asked, his throat suddenly raw, a throb in his chest that he hadn’t thought to ask this already, that this had slipped his mind. 

“Hm?” Harry asked distractedly. He was done chopping his ingredients, lifting the board and dumping the contents into a large bowl, tossing the salad to coat the vinaigrette. He hadn’t noticed Louis’ change in mood. 

“This eight hour movie.” Louis pointed to the DVD case, even though Harry wasn’t looking at him. Every piece of the package was compromised already, and still he didn’t want to add to that by touching it again. 

Harry squinted in his direction, bowl still in one hand as he approached the coffee table. His eyes flicked between the DVD and Louis’ face. Louis’ expression was purposefully blank, waiting for Harry’s response. 

“The Everson film? Caro sent it, I think, since we talked about him. That's why I want to finish before the next seminar.” Harry gestured at Louis with his free hand, his casual mood clashing with the harsh feeling in Louis’ chest. There was a relaxed slope to his shoulders, his eyes blinking slowly. All of these things would go away when he realized a move had been made.

Louis needed to make sure before he said anything. He could picture the way Harry's expression would slip off his face, the stress eating at his features, and tightening every nerve, fraying the edges of his sleep. “You don’t know for sure?”

“Well, she’s the one who suggested the trip in the first place. And she’s doing her thesis on this guy. She’d know where to get something like this.” There was a new tension in the lines of Harry’s face. He was catching on that Louis wasn’t telling him everything.

Louis worried at his lip, swiping at his fringe reflexively. “Can you ask her?” 

“Why?” Harry asked at last, tone flat. “You did your research on her didn’t you? She’s clean, isn’t she? I’d assume I wouldn’t be allowed in a study group and a class with her if she weren’t. I’d probably have been forced to drop the class or something.” A month ago that would’ve been a scathing comment, but it didn’t even come close to being as biting as Harry could be. Harry sensed that something was off, and was trying to revert back to their easy antagonistic roles. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t help them right now. 

“She’s clean, yeah. But she might not be the one who sent you this.”

“But if she sent it it’ll be weird for me to ask.”

“I guess we’ll go straight to the surveillance cameras, then,” Louis said easily. He wasn’t going to indulge Harry’s mood right now. They needed to take action. 

“Okay, if you’re so certain, we’ll see her in the surveillance cameras.” Still, Louis didn’t pick up his phone to alert Niall. Didn’t move from where he sat, keeping his eyes locked with Harry’s. He wanted to give him a little time to get used to it. 

Harry huffed. But Louis could sense the slightest tremor of his hand as he held onto his bowl. “This is ridiculous.”

Still, Harry didn’t want to ask Caro outright if the package was from her, so at Louis’ suggestion he sent her a thank you text instead, saying he'd forgotten to thank her earlier. If she’d sent it this wouldn’t seem out of place, which was the only reason Harry gave in.

Harry ate his salad and pretended to pay attention to the telly even though the volume was too low to really hear. Louis could tell Harry was intent on not looking at his phone. He was still clutching it by his side, hoping for a response that would make everything right. His grip on his fork was tight enough that the tendons in his arms stood out

But Caro's reply just confirmed that she didn't send him the DVD. 

It was as simple as that, and self-induced, the piercing of the hope that the package was just a thoughtful gift, nothing out of the norm. Harry’s reaction was subdued, but the set of his jaw suggested he was on guard. 

It was a better reaction than Louis had anticipated, really. Harry became nearly deferential, offering Louis the lead without resistance, allowing Louis’ suggestions to land and giving them some thought before countering.

“Do you want to look at the tapes from the lobby, see if it’s maybe someone else you know who dropped it off?” Louis suggested, as a way to keep him involved. “Someone else from your class who went on the trip?”

Their roles had been reversed now. Harry fully believing there was something wrong with the package and Louis trying to give him a speckle of hope. It made no sense, Louis knew that, but he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want to only deliver bad news.

“Wouldn’t you be able to look at them yourself? Since you’re there all the time?” It wasn’t an accusation, but a statement of fact that Louis couldn’t deny.

“I could, but I thought you’d like to be included,” Louis said, nodding along, trying to be amicable. Offering Harry to be part of this was the least he could do. And he’d feel more in control, no doubt.

“Yeah,” Harry started. He took a gulp from his glass. “Yeah, being included sounds good.”

“Alright,” Louis said, smiling tightly. He pressed his knee against Harry’s before pushing away and leaving room for Harry to process things on his own. 

It wasn’t difficult for Niall to get hold of the footage from the day the envelope was logged, and they knew roughly when it had come in. It wouldn’t take long to identify who had left it. 

Since Harry was to be included, Niall came over to the loft and that’s where they set up. Harry kept pacing as they fast-forwarded through the footage. He deliberately didn’t look at the screen, biting his thumbnail. He did watch the two of them though. He watched their faces for any change; for alarm or recognition. 

“It’s not her,” Niall said, stating the obvious when they’d paused on the moment the envelope was handed over. It was someone wearing a Blue Jay’s cap, average height and dark hair gathered into a low ponytail.

There was no doubt that it wasn’t Caro. But it also wasn’t the bloke that had followed Louis. He could’ve put on a wig, and the face wasn’t that visible but the guy--or girl--had the wrong build. 

It didn’t look like someone Harry knew either, nothing familiar about their appearance. Still, Louis asked Harry, “Is this someone you know?” 

“I can’t even see her face. Or his face.” Harry squinted at the screen, shook his head. “Maybe it’s someone else from the class.” His grimace revealed his skepticism, and he brought his fist to his mouth. He bit at his knuckles, his face pale.

“Sometimes it looks better printed,” Niall said, righting the laptop towards himself. 

“Right,” Harry agreed, just to have something to say, even though Niall hadn’t seemed to expect a response. Even now, Niall was focused on his job, clicking away at his laptop. Editing the clip down to the hand-off moment and saving it to the disk and the cloud. He was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t notice Harry’s unease.

Harry crossed his arms, where he stood, tightly hugging his chest and giving the illusion that he was caving in on himself, the slope of his shoulders making him smaller. “So what’s next?” 

Louis said, “We’ll have the envelope and the DVD sent to England so it can get analyzed. Handing it all over to Anne’s people since they need to be in the know about everything.”

“Everything,” Niall echoed. 

The single word torpedoed into Louis’ chest, and he forced his mouth into a smile. “Yes, that’s right.”

“I still haven’t finished watching it,” Harry said. The line between his brow was present, but he was speaking into the distance.

“The movie?” Louis’ eyebrows arched. It might’ve been a good sign that Harry remained interested, he scolded himself, and neutralized his expression. He coughed, said, “I guess-- I guess they can send it back when they’re done with it?” They’re not going to destroy it or anything,” Louis said, hoping for Niall to confirm.

“Nah, they shouldn’t. Don’t worry ‘bout it, Styles. You’ll get to watch this again.” Niall closed his laptop with a click.

 

/

 

When Niall left, Harry absentmindedly waved goodbye, leaving Louis to walk him out and lock up behind Niall. Harry opened the fridge, looking inside, closing it. He opened the freezer and peered inside before closing that as well. His fingers drumming against the counter as he tried to find something to do with himself.

Louis waited for Harry to settle, giving him time to gather himself. He knew that Harry would have questions, would want to know details. But having gone through a similar shock himself just days ago he wanted Harry to take his time. 

Harry returned to him with a tumbler of scotch. He took a large gulp, grimacing and screwing his eyes shut. He spoke on an exhale, a simple but effective, “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” 

Harry swiped his thumb over his lip. He walked past Louis closer to the window, as if he were going to step out onto the veranda but he didn’t, instead staring outside. There was nothing to see from where Louis was sat, the same row of houses and the empty street below, typical for this time of day. But Harry remained rooted to his spot. He took another swallow of his drink, a shudder passing over the slope of his shoulders.

“D’you have a spare cig?” Harry asked without turning around.

Louis didn’t, at least he didn’t think he did-- but he still patted down his pockets, he still felt the need to make sure because if that’s what Harry needed, Louis wanted to give it to him. Relief in any way. And yet, he couldn’t even do that. “No, sorry. We can go and pick some up, if you like?”

Harry shook his head, and his face turning towards the camera that Niall had mounted outside the window, studying it for a few seconds. He squinted against the sunlight before making quick work of the blinds, plunging the loft into semi darkness as the slats closed, shutting out the daylight. 

“So I guess it really is good you guys are here, huh,” Harry said at last when he turned around. He gulped down the rest of his drink. His mouth curled into a smirk, his nose pinched. “Although if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t even have known, would I?” 

“Would you have preferred that?” Louis asked, choosing to take Harry’s question at face value.

“Dunno. They might get bored if they didn’t get the reaction they wanted out of me.” He shrugged, not sounding convinced himself. 

Louis licked his lip, watching as Harry moved closer to the kitchen. He didn’t turn on any lights, just refilled his glass. From the grimace on his face it didn’t look like he was enjoying the drink, but the way his fingers curled around the glass suggested he still needed it. 

Harry sighed, the exasperation clear in just in the way he wrinkled his nose. 

“I just don’t get it. Why send me something that I actually want? I wanted to see that film. I would never have figured out that it wasn’t just a thoughtful gift.”

“You would have, Harry. You would. At some point you would’ve talked to Caro about it, and realized she didn’t send it. How much worse would it be to find out a few months out that someone has been watching you?”

Being faced with the reality that you’d been targeted was difficult to work through, and Harry had been resistant from the start. Louis didn’t blame him for trying to grapple with it, he himself was still trying to process that he’d been followed for however long, and he was used to being in these situations. Harry hadn’t thought anyone would bother with him, would leave him alone because he’d made himself scarce, and Louis’ presence was just an indulgence on his mum’s part. But now it was real.

Harry wasn’t pacing anymore, and there was no defiance in the way he stood. His eyes screwing shut as he inhaled deeply. 

“I just don’t get it How did they even know? You said everyone has been cleared?”

Louis nodded. “They have.”

Harry wiped his face in frustration. He moved from his spot at last, dropping heavily onto the sofa. He still clutched at his glass like a lifeline, the liquid sloshing with his sudden movement, but he seemed to be done drinking. In his other hand he clicked his vape to life, picked up from the same drawer the whiskey was being kept.

“So how did they know? How did they know about Everson, how did they know about the trip?” There was a hint of a challenge in Harry’s voice, a sharpness that Louis hadn’t heard since the first few weeks of their acquaintance. He didn’t blame him for it, though. It was a valid question. The timing of the package delivery coincided with the end of the New York trip, and the two had to be connected. How anyone could’ve known had been one of the first things Louis had asked himself, and while Niall became near obsessed with finding a flaw in their system.

Yet, it was Kate that found the answer, as eager as she’d been to help and prove herself, the answer came to her easily.

Louis’ jaw twitched before he said, “Reddit.” Louis pauses. “Facebook too, I think a combination of them both, really.”

Harry’s brows bunched together as he took a drag from his vape. Cheeks puffing out, glass abandoned on the side table. “I don’t use either of those?” His voice went up at the end, making him sound unsure. 

“Yeah, that-- It doesn’t matter. Other people do, and they overshared. People asked for tips, wanted information on the festival, invited other students to join… it added up. If it had just been one person posting about it… well that probably wouldn’t have been enough but-- putting everything together?” Louis shrugged, the gesture far too casual for the topic at hand, but he was trying to underplay it for both of their sakes. It was done and it was out of their hands.

“Other people talked about me not going on a trip?” Harry’s eyebrows had shot up exaggeratedly, forehead lined and skepticism clear.

“No-- not quite.” Louis pulled at his lip, trying to figure out how to explain. 

“So they assumed I wouldn’t go?” Harry’s expression was firm, his mouth like a clenched fist, the words being punched out. The only reprieve when he swallowed, his throat bobbing, a quick reminder of how vulnerable he was. 

“I think it didn’t matter, ultimately. They couldn’t know beforehand if you would but--” 

“They were going to send it anyway,” Harry said, nodding as if it would help him process the information. 

“I think so.” Louis continued to study Harry’s face, his rigid figure, expecting him to break down, or something. All in all he was handling things better than Louis would’ve expected. Having a drink and a smoke barely registered on the reaction radar, and he wasn’t panicking--not yet, at least. And his questions made sense. A small part of Louis hoped that his constant vigilance and explanations to Harry had prepared him for this and that this was why he was doing so well.

“And?” Harry was expectant, offering his vape to Louis, absentmindedly. Louis declined, and Harry just took a pull of his own. He coughed as he said, “‘m sure you’ve got more thoughts on their strategy, right?”

“I think…” Louis started, careful with his choice of words, pulling at his lip with his teeth. He had thought about it enough that he had an idea. “What they did to Gemma-- this--” Louis gestured towards the coffee table, the spot where the packaged had lain last. “It’s about making you uncomfortable. Which would’ve happened if you’d gone and returned to a package that suggested people knew you’d been in New York. That note? It might have sounded more threatening, ‘cause it would seem like they were there and didn’t have a chance to approach. 

“Are you sure they didn’t go down there and just--” Harry waved his hand about, looser now, his shoulders slumped, the line of his back rounded as he leaned forward.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.”

It was clear from Harry’s face that he wasn’t convinced, but he was trying to process Louis’ theory nonetheless, giving it a shot. Perhaps the pot was already making it difficult for him to respond. He shook his head and scratched at his jaw. There was a small amount of stubble there and above his lip. He hadn’t shaved since they’d discovered that the package had been a warning of some sort, but it was barely noticeable. He licked his lips, mouth opening and closing again; thought aborted.

“What are you thinking?” 

“I just--” Harry sighed. It could’ve been the dark, the way shadows made Harry’s face look more drawn but he seemed tired, suddenly. He rubbed his face with his hand before running his fingers through his hair, mussing it up. “You know, you’d have thought leaving the country would’ve worked to get left out of this mess wouldn’t you? Haven’t had anything to do with Twist aside from attending a few parties, but still here we are.” He let out a humorless laugh, hand wiping his face.

Louis reached out to him, gripping his hand. It was a simple way of offering comfort. He was still uncertain where the lines between them were these days but this certainly was a special situation. “It sucks.” It was all he could think to say, simple and to the point.  
“It really fucking sucks,” Harry said with emphasis. He was leaning back far enough on the sofa that he was nearly lying down. His face turned towards Louis, face unreadable. 

“I need to take a kip.”

“Alright,” Louis said, preparing himself to get up and go to his room. If Harry wanted space it was the least he could do.

Harry gripped his hand before he stood, halting him. “Will you come with me?” He grimaced. “I just really don’t want to be alone right now.”

Louis’ heart clenched in his chest, a tough swallow. “Sure.”

Harry blinked slowly, his face gone slack by now. There was a cloud that passed over his features before he got up and grabbed Louis’ hand, pulling him upstairs. Even without Harry’s guidance Louis felt drawn to follow him, an undeniable tug from his chest.

They had never gone to bed with the intent to sleep before, and Louis felt his nerves on edge, his skin itching to to reach out to Harry. But he dug his nails into the palm of his hand to stop himself.

Harry was already dressed in loungewear, sweatpants and a loose shirt and he only got rid of his shirt before crawling into bed. Louis followed, even though Harry’s back remained to him. But he had asked Louis to join him.

Hesitantly, Louis reached out to touch Harry’s shoulder. Harry seemed to relax to the touch, and Louis’ grip tightened at the welcome. He scooted closer, wrapping his arms around Harry’s middle. Harry’s breathing deepened, his body slack and warm against Louis’ chest. 

If this helped even a little bit who was he to deny him?

 

/

 

Louis didn’t expect to drift off to sleep but he did, despite the waistband of his trousers digging into his hips and his skin prickling from the intimacy with Harry. It was fitful, and he came to with his arm tight around Harry’s chest and Harry’s hair tickling his nostrils.

Louis flopped onto his back. He bent his legs, the fabric of his jeans grating against his skin. He needed to get into his own sleep clothes and his own bed.

Harry stirred before Louis got up, he asked, “Should I get a dog?” His voice slightly raspier than normal. He blinked slowly, as if still on the edge of sleep, even as he stretched himself out, chest heaving with a deep breath.

“Do you _want_ a dog?”

Harry’s shoulders lifted, the closest approximation to a shrug while lying down. “Might be safer.”

Louis couldn’t help it, found himself leaning closer and pressing a close mouthed kiss against Harry’s shoulder. His breath caught at the contact, the smell of Harry’s skin subtle but addictive. Louis pulled away and turned his head, biting into his pillow with a silent groan. He screwed his eyes shut before coming up for air. 

“I don’t think this is the kind of scenario where that stands.”

“Why not?”

“A dog would just be something for you to care about, to worry about. They’d exploit that. That’s what they’re after.”

Harry sucked his lips into his mouth, the line of his throat a perfect arch as he pushed his head back so he could stare at the ceiling.

Louis continued, “But if you want a dog then, by all means.” 

“‘M more of a cat person,” Harry mumbled. That was something Louis didn’t know, something he hadn’t learned despite spending nearly every waking hour with Harry. 

“So what do we do now?” Harry asked. It wasn’t a question about the two of them, Louis knew, but his chest tightened anyway.

“We carry on as normal, and when we’re in London we’ll revisit our strategy.” He didn’t mention that his presence might be part of what was negotiated. It didn’t feel right mentioning it right now.

“Is that your way of saying I should still go to Nick’s party tonight?” Harry had turned towards Louis, curiosity present in the way his eyebrows arched. His hair was a mess, half spilled over the sheets and half plastered to his skin. 

“If you want. I don’t think they know your exact schedule. What’s important is that we don’t change your routine, in general. Don’t act different, don’t make them know they got to you.”

“Hmm, sometimes I stay in,” Harry said. He turned over onto his belly, arms folded, pillowing his head. “With you here it’s not like I’ve got to go out for company.”

Louis’ lips folded inward reflexively, he leaned into the move, trying to make it seem like he was thinking of a witty retort rather than reacting instinctively. He couldn’t hold it against Harry, really. Of course Harry was incapable of being alone at any point in time. He couldn’t think of anything to say, so instead Louis gathered himself together to get up and out of bed. He stayed with Harry for his kip, that’s all he asked for. 

Harry watched him carefully as Louis straightened out his clothes, stood at the edge of the bed. They’d only been in bed for a few hours but the space was even darker now, it felt like the middle of night, and Louis felt appropriately loopy. 

“Just give me a heads up if we’re still going out,” Louis asked. Harry nodded, and Louis could practically visualize his mouth thinning into a smile. He would need to get change and prepare himself mentally for that.

“Louis--” Harry started just when Louis was about to head down the stairs. 

Louis turned back and Harry was sat in bed now, the sheets pooling around his hips, feet sticking out. He was curling his toes even as his arms remained crossed, resting against his knees. Harry continued, “I know that you’re going to be off duty when we go to London--” Harry started, a deep breath and a pause before he continued, a tic at the corner of his mouth “--but mum wants you to come over for supper.”

While it was true that Louis wouldn’t be shadowing Harry, whose safety would be temporarily handled by Anne’s team, Louis would still be working. There was a lot to go over with headquarters about the security needs that were present for Harry. Still, there was no point in trying to correct him at this time. He understood why Harry seemed nervous now. 

“When would this be, exactly?” he asked. He wasn’t sure what to make of this ask. It seemed a bit odd for Louis to attend a family meal when he had no relation to the family. Perhaps if Anne hadn’t been the first person he’d been in contact with Louis would understand her desire to meet the man in charge of her son’s security. But if it was Anne’s request it would be odder to turn her down. 

“I think just before the gala. She’s very happy we’ll all be in the same city,” Harry said, his fingers nestling into his hair, tugging at the matted curls. 

“I bet,” Louis said. “I think my social calendar is still open. I’d be happy to come by.”

Harry’s smile broadened enough that his dimple carved into his cheek. Louis waved him off as he continued downstairs, his pulse racing. He couldn’t turn down the invitation, but this was making things harder for himself. He was becoming a cliche; falling for his principal. How was he supposed to keep his feelings under lock and key while with Harry and his family on his own time? He’d have to leech himself of his feelings, numb them somehow before then. 

Louis didn’t realize that it was odd Anne didn’t invite him over herself until he’d made it back into his own room.

 

/

 

They didn’t attend Nick’s party, which directly resulted in Harry receiving two phone calls from him in the middle of the night. 

The first call awoke Louis with a start. Harry’s ringer wasn’t that loud, and he seemed to try to keep his voice down, but even the slightest change in atmospheric sound awoke Louis. He’d been set on edge since he’d been followed, and things had escalated over the past twenty-four hours. 

Louis didn’t move from bed, he remained on his back, staring at the ceiling as if he could see through it. Every muscle was taut as he readied himself to hear any sounds of distress, of an argument, of anything wrong.

The second call came not long after, and this time Louis heard Harry come down the stairs. Louis bolted upright, scrubbed his hands over his face and hair, getting himself ready to get dressed and leave the flat, but he was interrupted by Harry’s knock. 

Louis only realized the call wasn’t an emergency when he saw Harry stood on the other side of the door, his eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a yawn. Not the face of someone who needed immediate assistance.

“He wants to talk to you,” Harry said, smacking his lips. 

Louis gingerly took hold of Harry’s phone, pressing it against his ear. 

“--Don’t you remember the good days?” Nick’s voice cut through the line, unbothered that Louis hadn’t made his presence known. He was trying, and failing, to whisper. There was no doubt in Louis’ mind that he was high, the cadence of his voice relaying an urgency that didn’t make sense considering what he was saying. It was nonsense.

Still, Louis kept him on the line, _Uh-huh_ ing at the appropriate times. Harry stood waiting for his phone. He yawned, the skin on his chest prickling. 

Louis followed Harry back upstairs, Nick still on the line. At a certain point he stopped talking but Louis could hear the party still going on on the other end of the line. Either Nick forgot to hang up, of he intentionally wanted to keep them on the line, letting them hear what they were missing out on.

“You should really keep the ringer off,” Louis said, placing the phone back on Harry’s nightstand. 

“Don’t wanna miss anything important,” Harry mumbled. He had curled up into himself on the bed. It might’ve been the sleep, the blurry line between dreamworld and reality making it difficult to judge anything. Harry gestured for Louis to join him, leaving more room in the bed.

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Louis got into bed with Harry just to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note the updated chapter count! this got wordier than expected.... so this is the second to last chapter. hard at work on finishing things up, thank you for your patience <3

There was a surreal quality to the days before they were due back in London. Harry’s schedule remained much the same: classes, study sessions, visits to the reference library, not a lot of going out. Harry said he wanted to get as much ground covered as possible before being away, not wanting to fall behind schedule, and still struggling with his thesis.

Louis didn’t quite believe it, especially not when Harry has started closing the blinds and spent less time complaining about precautions Louis urged him to take. 

It was more tranquil, despite Louis’ heightened awareness of their situation, but it made Louis restless. He’d done all he could about his own tail, and nothing had come out of that so far. He couldn’t affect the speed at which the DVD case and note were analyzed, and the tracking being done. And he couldn’t help Harry through it, because he didn’t seem to need it. 

Louis itched for their return to London, because it would unleash the floodgates one way or another, he just hoped he’d be around to witness it. One change had already been made: Liam and Niall were due back originally, but Steve decided to leave them on location. If they hadn’t been compromised yet, then joining Harry and Louis on a trip back to England would put them square in the picture. Whoever was watching would figure it out.

 

/

 

Louis knew that the responsibility for Harry’s safety would be taken off his plate while they were in London. That still didn’t stop him from fretting internally when he and Harry stepped onto the pavement and they split up. Harry strode toward the car that was waiting for him, and he stopped and waved back at Louis. 

Harry wore a crooked smile, and Louis’ own face mirrored Harry’s expression. The car drove off and he was left alone, his knapsack suddenly heavy on his shoulder.

Louis took a deep breath, the air tasted cold. It was an unfamiliar feeling, truly being alone again. He had thought that he’d look forward to having time alone getting to just exist. But there was no sense of relief in him, not yet.

Perhaps that feeling of calm would set in later.

Louis decided to take the Express train downtown; it would give him an opportunity to absorb the familiar atmosphere. He joined the stream of rushed travelers at the turnstiles, stepping onto a near full carriage. It was crowded and hectic and deliciously familiar, allowing him to relax a little bit and come into himself. The familiar labyrinth of the underground and its travellers was easy to get lost in.

Louis got off at Hammersmith station, the cold burning his lungs as he took deep gulps of air. He was feeling the weight of the travel in his bones, now. Wanting nothing more than to curl up in his familiar bed with no alarm clock, being able to go back to sleep should a sound jerk him awake.

He’d warmed up to the idea of being alone. Harry had texted him to let him know he’d gotten home alright, along with a photo of his legs and bare feet on his bed. It eased Louis’ mind slightly. He hadn’t doubted that Harry would be well taken care of, but it was still different to see it for himself. 

Besides, he’d see Harry soon enough for supper. 

The neighbourhood hadn’t changed in his absence; the off-licence still advertised the same deals, the same group of mates lingering outside the kebab shop near his flat. 

Louis had to drop his knapsack onto the floor to dig out his keys, buried deep in a pocket. 

The first thing Louis noticed when he stepped into his flat is that it wasn’t as warm as he’d expected. The air wasn’t musty or stale, a breeze cutting through the room from a window he’d definitely not left open when he left three months ago. 

Despite his drooping eyelids and the heaviness in his legs, Louis quickly assessed the situation, phone grasped in his hand and ready to act. There was a brief, brief moment where he wondered whether someone had gotten to him here.

He quietly stepped into the kitchen and noticed dishes in the sink and a water bottle on the counter. 

That definitely wasn’t a threat, and his shoulders relaxed. His siblings all had keys to his flat, it was far more likely it was one of them. 

Louis remained on his toes, just in case, as he moved through the rest of the flat. His suspicions were confirmed when he stepped into his bedroom. The bed was unmade, and there were bags of make up lined along the windowsill, flannels with smears of mascara in the bin. 

Lottie was here.

She’d even left a mug of tea and her calendar on the nightstand, the days crossed out in bright red ink really highlighting how long he’d been gone. He tried to focus on his day to day while on assignment, which sort of made him forget how long he’d actually been gone.

Louis quickly got changed into something more comfortable and warm, a sweater with sleeves he had to pull back and his favourite worn out joggers.

His tummy grumbled and he headed back to the kitchen. 

If Lottie had been crashing in his flat, the least she could do was pick up groceries for him. He doubted that she’d have brought in anything he’d like, a suspicion that was confirmed when he checked the fridge. There were rows of vitamin water bottles, and bags of miniature carrots. 

There was one beer left in the crisper, which would have to do until she returned. He picked it up and allowed himself to sink down into his ratty sofa, texting her his demands in the form of a grocery list. 

There was nothing immediate waiting for him. Hours of recorded programs on the telly that he had no interest in, but put on so he could complain about them to Lottie later. 

It should’ve been a relief, being free of responsibilities for the time being, but it didn’t feel that great. 

Louis wondered what Harry was doing right now-- knowing Harry he was probably unpacking meticulously, despite how brief the visit would be, and probably filling up his calendar for his time here. Louis snorted at the thought, but there was a pinch of regret that he wouldn’t get to experience Harry’s London routine. 

Louis could text Harry, that was allowed. He contemplated it, fingers tightening around his beer bottle. He took another swig. It was probably wiser to let Harry have some space now that he could have it. 

The sound of jangling keys was muffled from where he sat, but Louis cocked his head towards the door as he waited for Lottie open it, his eyebrow raised and feet casually kicked up on the arms of the sofa. This was his domain, after all, he needed to show it. 

“Louis!” Lottie’s usually soft voice was more of a shriek. She gestured for him to come up and greet her as she unloaded her bags by the fridge.

So much for giving off a top dog vibes. Still, he couldn’t help smiling as he got up and approached her. 

“You were supposed to tell us when you were in town,” Lottie chastised him, pulling him in for a painfully tight hug. His teeth ached at the familiarity of her ribbing coupled with the tenderness of her hug. He’d missed her. He’d missed his family, he’d missed home. It hadn’t quite set in ‘til now.

“Did you get everything I wanted?” Louis asked to lighten the mood, and Lottie punched his shoulder. 

“Lucky I was already at the shop.” Her ponytail flipped over her shoulder as she took out her things from her bags. Salad kits and pre-cut fruit, nothing of his. He peered into the bags before she slapped him away. “And the pizza is on the way.” She handed him a fresh beer.

He toasted the bottle against her can of Monster Energy. He grimaced at it as she drank, which she kindly flipped him off for.

He reciprocated and left her to wait for the pizza on her own. It felt good, not being alone. He’d been a bit concerned that Lottie’s presence would’ve made his melancholy worse, but he’d been wrong. 

Besides, if he’d been on his own he’d have to fully step out of the bubble he’d been in while in Toronto, while in Harry’s vicinity. It would remind him of how much he’d fucked up by letting himself fall for Harry. Even if he had to step away from Harry's service and not return, there were people here for him. He had his family, his flat, he’d get another assignment. Things would return to normal, and there were people here for him.

The sound of Lottie humming a song he couldn’t recognize carried over to where he sat and Louis snorted to himself. If nothing else there were people here for his flat, his fridge and his DVR. 

Lottie only joined him once the pizza arrived, dropping the box onto the coffee table as she held onto her bowl of fruit salad. 

Louis picked the best slices of pizza, piling them onto his plate, because he knew she would cave and have a few herself.

“So you helped yourself to my flat,” Louis said, quirking his eyebrow in Lottie’s direction.

“Like you’re helping yourself to my pizza?” She pushed her socked feet against his thighs, attempting and failing to push him into the corner. She gave up quickly, putting her feet up on the coffee table next to the pizza box.

Louis stuck his tongue out at her, and she shook her head. “I did buy it, you know,” she said, pointedly. 

“Cause I asked you to.” Louis made a show of taking a big bite of the slice. His mouth dropped open as it burned the roof of his mouth.

Lottie’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth, not hiding her amusement in the slightest, the devil. 

“Very funny,” Louis mumbled, the tender skin of his mouth still hurting, gulping down his beer, barely registering the taste of it as he swallowed it down. 

“Should I text the others for family dinner tomorrow? A bit short notice, but I think I can wrangle them all into submission. Especially since you’re only here for a few days, right?” Lottie asked, not waiting for him to recover from his inconvenient burn. He breathed through his teeth, eyeing Lottie’s chunks of fruit. 

Lottie was unconcerned, spearing a piece of pineapple and chewing it carefully. “Mhm, nice and cold.” 

Louis flipped her off casually, trying to ignore the pinch in his chest at her words. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to be back for just yet. Regardless-- “I’ve got plans tomorrow, actually.”

Lottie tipped her head to the side, asking him to elaborate. 

“Supper with the principal.” Louis mouth thinned, not wanting to give away how he felt about his current plans. 

“Wow, this guy is high maintenance.”

Louis nearly choked on his beer, coughing into his fist. Lottie’s face revealed she had no interest in hearing more about the job. “M sorry?” 

Lottie waved her hand as if she were stating the obvious. “He gets you all to himself for months and now he’s taking up your free time? That’s high maintenance.”

“It’s not-- his mum wanted me to come over. She’s technically the big boss, you know. Probably just wanting to make sure that I did a good job. We’d only met a few times before she put her son’s safety in my hands.”

“Uh huh,” Lottie said, as if she’d tuned out of his explanation, but her mouth twitched revealingly when he mentioned Harry’s mum. Her interest was sparked, now, but at least she was keeping her questions and thoughts to herself. At least for the time being. “Is that all you’ve got to say about it?” 

Louis scratched the back of his head, casually, or at least he hoped it came off as such, and not like he was racking his brain for a change of topic. “Well I….” Lottie bounced her foot in the air, waiting impatiently. “Might need help picking an outfit?” 

Lottie studied him, out of intrigue or suspicion, Louis wasn’t sure. That was until she cast a glance at his present outfit and shook her head. “We have a lot of work to do.”

She smirked, her eyes lighting up as if she’d been waiting for the opportunity to give him a makeover for years. As good of a distraction from further questions she might’ve had, it would be a pain to go through. 

 

/

 

Anne had sent a car for Louis, and the formality of it all made him feel like he was being thrust into deep waters. Anne had confirmed the time and address at which he’d be picked up. He’d received a few texts from Harry here and there, but none that mentioned supper. 

It was odd, was all.

Louis picked at his nails on the ride over, crossing and uncrossing his legs as he tried to get comfortable. He wasn’t exactly used to being driven around on his own, either, where all he had to do was ‘relax’ or summat.

As predicted, Lottie had had a lot of opinions on what he should wear, going so far as asking if she could pick things up for him. Louis still ended up going with his own idea. Fitted trousers, a nice vintage band shirt and a jacket over it, rolled up sleeves. He hadn’t been provided a dress code, after all. 

Louis didn’t take a moment to collect himself before knocking on the door, deciding it was best to face the evening head on. Harry was the one to open the door, which didn’t make things easier. Especially not since Harry was chewing on something, and only hummed a greeting before waving Louis inside.

Harry led the way into the house, the place revealing itself to be different from what Louis expected. He’d expected new-money extravagance, gaudy decor and perhaps even busts. The type of showy displays those who came to money late in life might indulge in. 

But it was far more homey than that; a fireplace and a large collection of family photos on the mantel, There was an abundance of throw pillows and blankets in the room, some folded and some laid out on the armchairs. It was lived in and warm. And quite a bit messier than Harry’s Toronto flat. Still, Harry fit in perfectly, fingers trailing along the back of an armchair when they passed through the sitting room.

“Sorry, was just trying one of the puddings,” Harry excused himself as he swallowed, shielding his mouth with the back of his hand. “How are you?”

“Good, good.” Louis lifted the bottle of wine. “Brought this for the hostess.”

“Yes, I see.” Harry’s eyes twinkled. Maybe it was just the way he looked in the light. “I’m sure mum will love it.”

The table in the dining room had been set up, but when Louis made to leave the wine there Harry urged him to step into the kitchen. “She’ll want to say hi.” 

Louis walked in first, Harry’s hand settling on his shoulder. Anne and Gemma were both stood at the counter, turned expectantly towards the doorway. 

“Louis!” Anne greeted him enthusiastically. She was working something over in a bowl, her hands busy, but the smile on her face was sincere. “Harry take good care of you?”

There was a brief squeeze along his shoulder, Harry’s fingers digging in. It was a slight distraction and Louis held the bottle of wine up to her. “Hi Anne, thank you for having me. You have a lovely home.”

“Oh!” If she’d noticed that Louis hadn’t answered her question she didn’t lead on, wiping her hands dry on a tea towel. She took the wine and studied the label, passing it on to Gemma for her to do the same. “Thank you, that’s very sweet.” She clasped both of her hands around his to greet him. Her grip firm and warm, hands reddened from cooking. “Gemma, come say hello.”

“Hi!” Gemma was still wielding the bottle in her hand, raising it up in approval before putting it down. “It’s a good thing you didn’t come earlier or she would’ve put you to work,” she said with a wink. 

Anne waved her off. “We don’t put guests to work. What would you like to drink? Was the ride alright? We can always open your bottle if you’d like.”

Louis barely had time to decide which answer to question when Harry’s hand landed on his shoulder, heavily. 

“A beer would be fine,” Louis said, because that felt simple, easy. 

Anne narrowed her eye at him, “Darling, whatever you want is fine, so if that’s what you want, splendid. But don’t hesitate to ask for something else. Harry may not be the best bartender but he can still get around the liquor cart.”

“I’m sure he knows what Harry has to offer-- keep playing it safe, Louis, it’s clever,” Gemma said with a wink. “Can you carry this out to the dining room?” She offered him a few trays of food; yorkies and a gravy ladle to add to the spread.

“I’ll fetch you something,” Harry said. Turning to Gemma, he commented, “At least none of my mixed drinks give people alcohol poisoning.”

“Excuse me? Slandering me again?” Gemma scoffed. 

She didn’t look like someone who had been frightened to death as she worked over the roasted chicken. That was promising, wasn’t it? She’d recovered well from having the sanctity of her home invaded. Harry, too, would recover in time. 

They all did, really, Anne unbothered by her grown children’s bickering as she moved dishes to the sink. If Louis had been an outsider he’d never have guessed that this family was currently being threatened. He pulled at his sleeve, wondering how they all seemed so normal under the circumstances. The pet names, the bickering; it all reminded him of his own family. It tugged at his insides, that he was allowed into this family bubble despite everything that was going on with them.

Louis was happy to be given something to do, at the very least, and he took care to add to the spread on the table. 

Harry pushed over the liquor cart closer to Louis, leaning against it. 

“I didn’t realize this was going to be a proper family supper.”

“Did you expect catering?” Harry was amused. There was no doubt that he’d been involved with the cooking as well, his shirt dishevelled and his skin rosy from being close to the hob. He spoke quieter, putting on an act as he fanned his hands over the tray. “What would you like to drink, sir?” 

“Oh, I’ll just-- whatever you’re having is fine, really.” Louis bit the inside of his cheeks. Anything would be good right now.

Harry kept the act up and waved a dismissive finger in Louis’ direction, unable to hold in his laughter at the end. “I might have a cocktail later but for now--” Harry raised a wine glass, “--Chardonnay.”

Louis was left alone as Harry went to fetch the wine, and he braced himself against the back of one of the chairs. He’d made himself tense for nothing

His reprieve didn’t last for long, Gemma and Anne coming in with the last of the food before Harry returned with Louis’ wine and his own glass refilled.

They took their seats, and Gemma pushed the basket of puddings and rolls towards Louis. 

 

“Oh we have to cheers,” Anne declared when she’d picked up a roll of her own. She picked her glass back up and paused as if to think of a toast. Finally she settled on a simple, “Cheers!” laughter bubbling out. 

Louis waited for her to drink before he took a sip of his own. Harry was watching him, amusement plain on his face. 

She sipped at her wine again and hummed happily. “Isn’t it gorgeous? You know I think it doesn’t work with our meal, technically speaking, but I just love this one.”

“Is it a particular vintage?” Louis didn’t know much about wine, and certainly couldn’t discern much of the difference by taste.

Gemma snorted, “God no, it’s right off the Marks and Spencer rack.” She herself had a tall glass filled with something pink, standing out from the others.

“I think it might work with the sides.” Harry’s tongue kissed the rim of the glass before he brought it to his mouth, tipping the glass carefully. 

Louis looked away and picked up a roll, tearing it apart with his fingers before eating the bite sized chunks.

“By sides do you mean the brussel sprouts, by chance?” Gemma addressed Louis as she continued, “He’s been going on all day about how they’re the star of the night. Awfully proud, he’s been.” 

“Because they’re good,” Harry muttered, Gemma’s words hitting a nerve. Turning to Louis he asked, “Would you like some?” He was ready to spoon some onto Louis’ plate, as if it were a perfectly normal thing for him to do, load up Louis’ plate with his cooking.

“Sure,” Louis agreed, because what else could he do? There were bits of bacon with the brussel sprouts, and the smoky smell made his mouth water. 

Harry proceeded to offer Gemma and Anne his dish, insisting that they all have a taste. He seemed younger, no doubt slipping into his role as the baby of the family. 

Louis watched with amusement as he added more dishes to his plate. Harry’s attention wasn’t on him, which gave Louis an inkling of breathing room, and the food and drink went down easily. 

That was, until he nearly choked on his pudding when Harry not so sneakily felt Louis up under the table. His palm was warm against Louis’ thigh, and Louis could swear he could hear the soft hiss sound of Harry’s skin against Louis’ jeans. Louis stayed put, undisturbed, but he tensed his thigh, hoping Harry got the message. 

Anne pulled Louis out of his thoughts when she asked, “Louis, do you know what you’re wearing?” 

“Pardon?” Louis asked, his eyebrows shooting up. Harry’s grip tightened, as if urging Louis to go along with it. But he had no clue what he was supposed to go along with.

“To the gala,” Anne clarified. Louis’ gaze cut towards Harry and he pressed his foot against his shin. It wasn’t a kick, it was more of a question, trying to get Harry’s attention as he stared intently away from Louis, fork pushing the crumbs on his plate around. “It is black tie but it’s a creative black tie, if you know what I mean?”

Louis cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I’ve been assigned to be on Harry’s detail that night?”

“Oh dear, no, not working. I wouldn’t expect you to work that as well. I just-- I thought you were going to be Harry’s plus one.” 

Louis had to keep himself from staring down Harry again, because he knew it might give too much away. That and, well, he doubted that Harry would be making eye contact now.

Anne picked at the edge of her napkin, a concerned line on her brow. “Did I ruin the surprise, or something? Harry?”

“I don’t think we’ve talked about the dress code, is all,” Harry explains, practically speaking into his glass before he took a long gulp. “There was so much going on…”

Gemma kept her glass to her mouth, her shoulders shaking. It was clear she didn’t believe a single word Harry was saying. Harry’s jaw twitched, and Louis decided the only course of action was to play along.

“Yes, I-- I do have a few options, but I guess there wasn’t much time for shopping--” Even as the words came out of his mouth he realized that wasn’t quite true. He had plenty of suits fit for work events, but no tux, and the wardrobe he’d acquired for Harry’s detail certainly weren’t appropriate for a night out.

“Oh, I’m sure Harry can help--” Anne turned towards Harry, hand on his arm. “You’ve got plenty of clothes you haven’t worn in ages, don’t you, dear? It’s quite good timing, at least.”

“Sure, mum,” Harry agreed easily. Far too easily for Louis’ taste. He didn’t protest that whatever trousers and jackets he had would be fitted to him specifically, and most definitely wouldn’t work on Louis. Instead he pushed his chair away from the table and asked Louis, “Shall we go check?”

“We’ll set out the sherry and dessert while you figure that out,” Anne said, her joyful expression back, concern smoothed out from her face. She patted Louis on back of his hand, as if giving him her approval.

Louis didn’t have a chance to protest, to point out that none of Harry’s clothes would fit him, that he’d not finished his meal-- Harry was determined as he took Louis’ hand and lead the way upstairs.

Louis hadn’t expected a childhood bedroom, exactly, but certainly something with more personality than the room he was taken to. It looked more like a guest bedroom with a few of Harry’s belongings. He’d forgotten for a brief moment that this wasn’t the home Harry grew up in. They’d moved into this house when Anne had gotten remarried, when Harry was already a teenager off at uni. Still, Louis had expected more personality from it. “This is your room?” 

“When I’m town, yeah.” 

“Doesn’t feel very… you,” Louis said. He hoped it didn’t come off as an insult. 

Harry was holding the door to the closet, “I was in Japan when they bought this house. So they just set it up for me. I don’t think it’s very me either. But we can’t all keep our childhood bedrooms.”

“Are we really here to look at clothes?” Louis asked, suspicious of Harry’s intentions, even as he opened the door to a large closet. His fingers were nimble as he went through the hangers.

The contents of the closet at least fit Harry’s sensibility and style to a tee, so it was unlikely that he was lying about anything. 

“Aren’t we?” Harry asked, nothing but the twitch of his mouth revealing that he was being coy. 

Louis stepped closer. If Harry wanted to play this game he might as well play along. He looked at the shirt hanging in front of him, tracing the pattern of flamingos on it as if he were considering it seriously. 

“I’m not sure about the measurements.” Louis pulled at one of the sleeves. 

“Hm,” Harry said. Louis was close enough that he could touch Harry if he wanted to. But he didn’t, not yet. “Let’s see…” Harry’s hands fell on Louis’ shoulders, as if to measure their breadth. He then went on to run his palms down Louis’ front, slipping under his blazer and brazenly pushing it off, letting it land on the rows of shoes that lined the closet floor. 

Louis’ quirked an eyebrow at him, which Harry took as a challenge rather than a question. 

“Good shoulder-width,” Harry commented absentmindedly as he squeezed Louis’ shoulders. 

“Is that an official measurement?”

“Hmm,” Harry said. His fingers deftly worked at Louis’ flies, thumbs hooking inside the waistband of his trousers and skimming over Louis’ skin. Louis tried to hold himself together, his lungs burning from the breath he was holding. 

It was getting difficult for Louis to stay still with Harry dropping to his knees, hands moving over the front of Louis’ thighs. Without warning his thumbs pressed against the inside of Louis’ knees, urging Louis to spread his legs so Harry could move towards his inner thighs.

“Might have some trouble with the inseam--” Harry said casually from where he was crouched. 

“Oh?” Louis said on an exhale. He was getting hard already, just from Harry’s breath against his belly, his hips. Harry pressed his nose against the hem of Louis’ shirt, lifting it up so he could smell the sensitive skin of Louis’ stomach. The pretense seemed to be gone. 

“Let’s see,” Harry said, tugging Louis’ trousers open, and pulling down Louis’ pants. 

Harry’s palm was warm against him, and he licked his lips. He didn’t waste any time before taking Louis into his mouth. The suddenness of it caught Louis off-guard, a groan at the back of his throat from the welcoming heat of Harry’s mouth. 

Louis was unmoored, head dropping against the back of the closet, feet trying to find purchase amongst the lined up shoes. His fingers twitched with the need to hold onto something, Harry’s hair tempting him. 

Louis grit his teeth and he pushed his hands out, gripping onto the hanging shirts around him. His nails dug into the soft fabric, twisting it as his hips jerked reflexively. Harry’s tongue was teasing the slit of his cock. 

A shiver ran through Louis, his skin feeling too tight, all the sensation gone to his groin and his head swimming from it all. “Fuck.”

Harry blinked up, feigning innocence even as he slurped loudly, definitely on purpose, his free hand pinning Louis to the wall.

“Harry--” Louis breath was caught in his throat, interrupting his sentence. He couldn’t quite think of anything anyway, his best course of action to remain still and bite on his lip. 

With every suck and lick he grew warmer, the thin fabric of his shirt sticking to his chest, to his belly, from his sweat. 

Harry pulled off with a pop, resting his head against Louis’ hip. “I missed you.”

“Is that what this was about?” Louis asked, voice halting and staccato. 

Harry licked his lips, blinking up at Louis with his mouth open. His lips were wet, shining with spit. He distracted Louis again by slowing pushing down on Louis’ cock. He was working over the shaft with vigor. Harry’s tongue was pressed close to his lips, providing resistance and making it seem like a tight fit, his lips stretched wide, saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth.

Louis screwed his face up to avoid being loud, the only sound he allowed to escape him a chest groan that reverberated throughout his bones. 

Harry made sure to suck him through his orgasm, and Louis’ hips jerked back against the wall with a sigh, body going lax. He could sleep in there, probably, the rack of sweaters looked sturdy enough to carry his weight. And it all smelled like Harry, the faintest whiff of his cologne still lingering in the clothes.

Louis kept his eyes to the ceiling, a breath rattling out of his lungs. Harry zipped his trousers back up, the heel of his palms pressing against Louis’ hips. Louis couldn’t resist, allowing himself to be pushed against the wall in the closet. 

“Well?” Louis asked when Harry stood at full height again, pulling at Louis’ shirt, still pretending to have anything to do with with his clothes.

Harry’s closeness, his gaze, was hypnotizing, and Louis held his breath, uncertain of what Harry might do next.

Harry's fingers traveled along Louis’ hips, grabbing onto the flesh of Louis’ arse with a hum before moving on to Louis’ shoulders again. There was an all too serious set to his brow when he spoke. “I’m not sure about these measurements.”

Louis chuckled, screwing his eyes shut. He succumbed to his impulse and gripped Harry’s hands, keeping them together before kissing his palms. He had to stop a smile from overtaking his face as he asked, “So dinner was just a ruse to get me to go with you?” It was a serious question, and he couldn’t bring himself to look into Harry’s eyes as he waited for the answer. 

“You don’t have to come, you know.” Harry wriggled his fingers in Louis’ grip, trying and succeeding to tickle Louis under the chin. He lost his hold on Harry's wrists, curling into himself in a fit of laughter.

“A bit late for that, innit?” Louis asked, raising an eyebrow at Harry, who remained close, his mouth curled and nostrils flared. 

“Ha ha. You know what I mean,” Harry said, following it with a playful slap to Louis’ chest.

This would likely be the most sincerity he’d get for now; Louis didn’t have the capability to eke more out of Harry. He was still raw and exposed, and probably flushed from the surprise blow job. He couldn’t get himself more worked up before facing Anne and Gemma again. Harry’s mum and sister. He winced and bit the inside of his cheek at the thought.

Harry studied him carefully, still waiting for a response.

Louis forced a smile, his insides still swimming, careful not to give away the swelling of his chest. “I’d love to come,” he said, trying not to sound too sincere, to not let his desires come through so clearly. He cleared his throat. “But I think this might be ruined,” Louis said, indicating the shirt he’d been gripping tightly. The wrinkles looked set, the silky fabric tainted.

“We can order you something. Or have something of mine altered.” Harry was back to business.

“No,” Louis laughed and shook his head. It didn’t matter if Harry wanted to do this for him, it was too much to accept, and there was little chance they’d find anything in Harry’s wardrobe that might suit him. And more importantly, Louis actually had a full wardrobe of his own that he was quite proud of. And he had no doubts that Lottie would try to have a say in his outfit, again. “I’ll figure something out.”

“I really thought I was in for a grilling from Anne or summat, not a sneaky gala invite. You could've just asked.” 

“I didn’t want to distract you, or make you feel like you _had_ to come,” Harry’s forehead wrinkled. He ducked his head, in an attempt to avoid scrutiny. It was an unusual move for him, and Louis knew that Harry meant it. Somehow missing that this scenario also could be seen as putting Louis on the spot. Unless he’d meant to do it that way all along to manipulate Louis. 

It didn’t bother Louis in this case, innocuous as it was and-- well. Louis wanted to spend more time with Harry. It might’ve been a bit out of left field but he couldn’t think about the reasons why, not now. He wouldn’t have passed up attending the gala as Harry’s guest regardless of how he was asked. 

Besides, Louis couldn’t deny that his curiosity was piqued. The gala was the only reason he’d gotten this assignment in the first place, but Louis had still put in good work on that brief. It would be interesting to see how closely Geoff’s team adhered to his initial plans. 

“It’s fine,” Louis said, fingers seeking Harry’s so they could twine together. They could stay up here a little while longer, pressing against each other. 

 

/

 

“Is this the type of party where you get announced as you walk in?” Lottie wanted to know, after Louis explained that he needed an outfit for the Twist Foundation Gala. 

“Those are balls, not galas” --or so he really, truly hoped-- “something from the old days, I’m sure they don’t do that.”

“Hmm.” Lottie was unconvinced. She threw him many critical looks as he decided on his outfit, but only spoke up when he was debating on a tie or not. That, and she insisted on giving him some colour, “For the photos,” she said, wielding her blush and bronzer like weapons. 

Louis’ phone vibrated, Harry letting him know he was downstairs. “Right, well I’m off--” Louis started, slipping into an old trench coat that would have to do for the night. His neck and hands would remain bare, but they wouldn’t spend much time outside.

“Last looks, come on,” Lottie said, quickly standing up, gesturing him over. She was perched with her powder and brush.

“Don’t touch my hair,” Louis warned her when she reached out. She rolled her eyes at him, tilting his head down by the chin. 

“Just a little powder…” 

Louis kept his eyes open as the brush flitted across his cheekbones and forehead. She stepped back and nodded at the final result. “Have fun,” she said, blowing him a kiss.

“Thanks,” Louis said, reaching up to fix his fringe as he left. He had no stray hairs to tuck behind his ears, but he went through the motions anyway, the gesture calming him. 

Each step he took down the stairs was in time with his pulsing heartbeat. His nerves were on the fritz, and they spiked to new heights when he stepped outside and was greeted with Harry’s beaming face leaning out of the open backset.

“Hey,” Louis said, slightly out of breath. He allowed himself to stand still for a breath, just to collect himself, but it didn’t have the calming effect he wanted, not when Harry’s eyes raked over him. Louis’ insides were somersaulting, and his smile felt stiff as he tried not to let it show. 

“I would've come up but I don’t think that was allowed.”

“Good thinking,” Louis said. Harry was right about that, it was better for him to stay in the car and wait for Louis. Although just keeping one of the doors open and practically falling out didn’t quite qualify as safe either.

Harry scooted deeper into the backseat, allowing Louis to get into the car. 

“Did you find something appropriate to wear?” Harry teased, an excuse to pull at the sleeve of Louis’ trench coat. His ungloved hand was circling Louis’ wrist exactly where his pulse was throbbing. 

“Look who’s talking,” Louis countered, pulling his hand towards himself. “You’re all covered up, too.” He gestured to Hary whose fur coat with a high collar. All Louis could see of Harry’s outfit were his shoes, polished to a blinding shine.

“No fun,” Harry countered, legs spread and arms sprawled on the back of seat. He was trying to take as much space as possible while buckled in. 

Louis’ gaze wandered to Harry’s face; he was freshly shaved, but his skin also seemed to sparkle. His hair, normally loose, left to fall where it might, only fixed by Harry running his hand through it, was actually styled. 

The worst of it all was that Harry was staring back at him.

Louis swallowed, said, “Your mum and sister are already at the Savoy, then? You could’ve gone with them, I think I could’ve handled the trip on my own.” He’d tried for light hearted teasing, even as Harry’s gaze remained heavy on him. Louis tried to match Harry’s spread out stance. It typically helped to feel more in control the more space you took, and it should work now too. That, and changing the subject.

“Yes, they had to be there early for setup. I could’ve gone but--” Harry raised one shoulder as if it were of no consequence. “‘M not sure you would’ve gotten there on your own, t’be honest. You might’ve gotten distracted by a bank robbery or summat on the way and never made it.” The way Harry smiled, broad and careless, suggested to Louis that he might’ve been drinking already. If that was the case at least it belied that he wasn’t as casually confident and at ease as he wanted it to seem. 

That was somewhat reassuring. On the flipside, Louis’ experiences with drunk Harry had been limited to when he was on duty. Now? With no responsibility on his shoulders for the rest of the night, a handsy Harry and carte blanche to imbibe himself? He was in over his head, no doubt.

It felt like he was on a date. He tried to tamp it down, rubbing his palms against his thighs. But all that did was make Harry stare at his thighs, his tongue poking out of his mouth, which didn’t help matters at all.

 

/

 

Louis was on the lookout for staff from Neon as soon as they stepped out of the car at the Savoy. There were none outside, and Louis took a second to stand in the windy night to memorize the floorplan. Out of instinct.

Once inside they didn’t have to check in; a woman approached them and introduced herself as Georgina. She offered to take their coats, prepared with a kind smile.

From Harry’s warm greeting it was evident she was someone he recognized. Or at the very least knew about. Harry’s jacket came off to reveal a yellow suit, distracting enough that Louis didn’t ask further questions as he took off his jacket as well. 

Georgina handled them easily and expertly folded their jackets over her arm. “May I take care of your bags?” 

Harry touched her on the elbow, pointing towards the exit. “In the boot of the car out front, thank you.”

Was this something Harry had forgotten to mention? Louis blinked at Harry before answering Georgina, “I-- I don’t have a bag.”

“Splendid,” she said with an understanding smile, as if Louis’ answer didn’t surprise her; as if, ultimately, nothing could ever surprise her. She was good at her job. “The gala reception is just to your left in the River Room, have a wonderful evening, Mr. Styles, Mr. Tomlinson.” She addressed them together before slinking away quietly. 

“Is this just how you get treated everywhere you go?” 

Harry barked out a laugh of surprise, before leading the way towards the reception. “No, you of all people should know it isn’t.” Harry walked backward towards the space Georgina had directed them. Up ahead Louis spotted some familiar faces standing guard by the entrance; blending in well while keeping good sightlines. 

It alleviated some of his nerves, but that only allowed for his awareness of the way Harry looked at him to take up more brainspace. It wasn’t exactly a win. 

“So it’s part of the event? Personalized greetings?” Louis asked.

“No, she’s our butler.”

“ _Our_?” Louis asked, although he was confident he’d heard Harry right.

A server passed by them with a tray and Harry easily plucked two glasses off of it. He offered one to Louis. “Well, I’m staying overnight. It’s easier. Thought you might like the option as well. It’s going ‘til late, after all.” He took a dramatic sip of his drink, dimple popping while he smiled at Louis. “I do believe you’ll want to make sure I get to my room properly.”

Louis held his breath high in his chest so he could stand tall. Harry was right, probably, Louis was overinvested; even knowing there was a meeting tomorrow they were both expected at, where it would be relayed that Louis would be off Harry’s active duty he still welcomed the thought of spending one last night with Harry. His gut twisted at the risk involved; they were at a public event, a gala no less, with Twist employees and patrons surrounding them. 

But Harry was the one making the moves this time, and Louis just had to play along, right?

Louis’ eyes moved from Harry’s, lingering on the smirk he sported which begged to be kissed off his face, down to his throat which wasn’t much better. Harry’s collar bones were on display with the black shirt he wore unbuttoned at the top. The skin there was as shiny as as that of Harry’s cheekbones. 

Louis took a small sip of his drink. It couldn’t hurt, and it was a good excuse to swallow down his impulse to give into what he wanted. 

“We’ll see,” Louis managed to say, keeping his tone purposefully cool. 

Even if Harry noticed, he didn’t have a chance to respond, approached by a slim man with sharply groomed facial hair. He already had a prominent jaw, the way his close cropped beard emphasised it made him even more commanding.

But he had on a bright smile wide enough that his features softened. One hand landed on Harry’s shoulder in familiarity, the other reaching out to shake Harry’s hand before he’d even been spotted. It was impressive; he’d cornered Harry in less than three steps. 

It was clear from the way Harry responded that he knew the man, a practiced close mouthed smile taking over his face. Harry made no attempt to include Louis in the conversation, so he remained where he stood, his glass of champagne sweating in his grip.

Louis took another sip, just for something to do. It was too dry for his liking, and he let his hand drop, glass dangling nimbly between his fingers. 

Harry was still occupied, the first man who approached unleashing the floodgates as more people gathered around him. It was a given that he’d be in high demand by the guests as one of the founding family, despite his lack of involvement in either the company or the foundation. 

Louis sharpened his gaze to and caught sight of a few officers he recognized. They weren’t so much blending in as remaining out of sight while still in control of the situation. At least Louis trusted them to take good care of the event security.

They knew Louis would be there-- Steve had been told that Louis’ presence had been requested, and the information had been passed on. They all knew the nature of the assignment; they knew what Louis’ cover was supposed to be. It wouldn’t look strange to them that Louis was stood so close to Harry. 

It was just Louis doing a good job. Even though he wasn’t on the job, right now.

Louis swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and he didn’t want to have more of his drink. A server with an empty tray materialized and Louis took the opportunity to drop his still nearly full glass on it. He straightened his shoulders and nodded towards the officers stood by the entrance to the Lancaster ballroom.

“I think we’re needed inside,” Harry said, excusing himself from the people gathering around him. He glanced towards Louis, an apology in his eyes.

Louis’ field of vision narrowed to Harry’s hand, and then his own moving towards it. Barely one drink in and he was holding hands with Harry, allowing himself to be pulled into the ballroom and his heart racing in his chest. 

They were moving away from the crowd, the layout of the ballroom more conducive to privacy. 

“Anyone I should know?” Louis asked, tilting his head back towards the reception. 

Harry seemed to waver, his fingers pinching his lips. The stark yellow of his suit was clashing with the pastel interior of the room. 

“I guess I should’ve asked if there’s someone I should _avoid_?” Louis asked, attention cutting back towards the reception. Most people there were stood in groups, glasses near empty.

Harry’s mouth twisted together, shook his head, “It’s all the business people. Don’t want to have to answer questions about joining either of the firms, which is always what they ask.”

“Is that who you were talking to earlier?” 

“Hm? Yeah, that’s the COO of the US division. Patrick David Turner.” Harry pulled away to sweep up another drink from a server, his fingers loosely playing with his cufflinks, a few ruffles peeking out from his shirt sleeve. “Always wants to see if I’d like to join them stateside.”

Harry shrugged, and after a second, said, “I just want to enjoy myself for once.” As if he even needed an excuse to not want to spend time with the business people when he had nothing to do with the business.

Louis wanted to say something, reassure Harry, his fingers reaching out to hold his hand again.

“Louis! You look handsome,” Anne said with delight, interrupting Louis’ movement. Harry must’ve sensed Louis’ discomfort, slinging his arm around Louis’ shoulder as Anne called out for Gemma to join them. “Doesn’t he look handsome?”

Louis was acutely aware of how close he and Harry were stood while Gemma looked him up and down. But her eyes didn’t wander from Louis, taking in his off-grey speckled trousers and fitted black shirt. It was a nerve wracking appraisal. 

She nodded her approval. “That green really makes your eyes pop,” she said, referring to his emerald bolo tie. 

“Thank you.”

“You know with all this stress about our outfits--” Louis shook his head, continued “Let’s just say I expected a red carpet,” Louis said, the weight of Harry’s arm around him making the back of his neck prickle. 

“Oh no, that doesn’t look good for charity events. Too show-offy,” Gemma said with certainty. “We did a survey and everything.”

“There’s is a photographer somewhere here, though, so your outfit will definitely be documented,” Harry said with a sly wink. Louis was pulled in closer, bracing himself against Harry’s chest. Louis held his breath at the move, painfully aware of where they were, of Anne and Gemma being stood _right there_ but none of them reacted as if anything out of the ordinary was going on. Still, Louis didn’t want to relax into Harry’s touch, the lines too blurred.

“Yes, because a red carpet is bad optics but people still want their presence, their charity to be documented,” Gemma said with a pinched mouth. 

“Normally she rolls her eyes when she says that,” Harry whispered in Louis’ ear, close enough that Louis could swear he could feel Harry’s lips against his skin. 

“Gemma,” Anne said. She pulled at the loose chiffon around her chest, adjusting it nervously. 

“And it’s excellent for our marketing, yes, I know.” Gemma’s eyes lit up, and she waved at one of the photographers, trying to get their attention. “We should get a group photo!” 

Harry’s grip was strong against Louis’ waist, and he had no hope of weaseling his way out of this one. He knew the security team was watching. They knew he was attending, of course, but attending and shoehorning into family photos were two separate things altogether. 

Still, there was no way out, and Louis smiled for the camera as their photo was taken. 

They only managed one photo before Anne and Gemma were whisked away to continue their rounds. The photographer followed them as Louis and Harry left to find their seats.

Their table was fairly close to the right side of the stage, opposite Anne and Gemma’s table. This way no matter where a guest was sat they could catch a good view of one of the Twist family. 

At least it meant they had a good purview of the rest of the room from their seats. 

There were name cards, Louis picking up the cardstock with his calligraphed named carefully. How long ago must Harry have given them Louis’ name? Louis’ thumb pressed against the ink. 

“Who did you bring last year?” Louis asked, still on alert as he watched the crowd disperse into their seats. A few of them had security details of their own lingering in the shadows, not allowed to step onto the floor lest their principals hit their emergency alert button.

“I just went with Gemma. She hadn’t started working there yet so she could actually have fun.” Harry nodded his chin towards Gemma’s table, opposite theirs, separated by the dance floor and the stage. She’d just taken her seat when Geoff approached her. Geoff looked different, but Louis couldn’t quite pinpoint why. His eyes followed them as Gemma got up off her seat and was escorted past the drapes concealing a door.

Sharply dressed servers were making the rounds, their knotted ties sparkling a silvery green to match the backdrop on the stage. When their server approached the table, Louis covered his glass with his hand. He told the waiter, “Sparkling cider if you have it, please.”

She nodded, said, “Of course, sir,” as she filled Harry’s glass with wine. 

“Why don’t you let her fill your glass and I can take it?” Harry said with a glint in his eye. Louis rolled his own but removed his hand, pushing the glass towards Harry’s plate. 

“Just so we don’t have to take up too much of your time,” he said to her as she followed direction and filled the glass.

“Yes, sir,” she answered before turning to Louis, “I’ll be right back with your cider.”

Harry looked at Louis expectantly, even as Louis drank of his water and started looking at the menu placed on his plate. Eventually Harry conceded, said, “Well?”

“Well what?” Louis asked. He straightened out the card in front of him where the menu was printed. “Have you heard of celery root mousse before? Not sure about that one.”

“You’re not working tonight, I don’t see why you’re not drinking.”

“Trying to get me drunk?” Louis picked up the menu card that was placed on the plate, but not before he caught sight of the tug on Harry’s mouth. 

“I _am_ curious about what would happen if you let loose for once.”

Louis jaw clenched, even as he tried to shake off Harry’s comment casually, pressing his knee against Harry’s under the table. But he knew he shouldn’t place his hand on Harry’s, or whisper in his ear, or get drunk on free booze. They weren’t just anywhere, what with a spotlight practically shining down on Harry and his family and the place was crawling with Louis’ coworkers. “Another time,” Louis said, deflecting by toasting Harry with his glass of water.

 

/

 

Dinner was an extended affair, each course being introduced by the chef and a change of music to ‘enhance the experience’. Louis had used his skill of tuning out to ignore the speeches. His time was better spent alternating between watching the way Harry held his cutlery and the way his tongue always, always touched his food first, and trying to spot his co-workers in the room.

The first speech Louis _actually_ paid attention to was Anne’s. 

They’d moved on to coffee, and Louis was carefully tracing the rim of his cup when Anne took the stage. 

She wasn’t introduced, didn’t wait for applause to urge her on, her grip firm on the microphone. “This is the second year we’ve held this gala since Robin passed. This foundation was a gift from him. And I hope to keep honouring him for as long as we can, by giving the joy of the arts to those who are less fortunate.”

There was a smattering of applause, which erupted over the whole room when Harry rushed onto the stage to pull his mum in a hug, Gemma following him closely after. Louis had nearly followed, his feet wanting to sprint after Harry when he took off, but he managed to stop himself. He held on tightly to the edge of his seat, watching as the family hug ended, Gemma and Harry staying on stage and flanking Anne as she continued her speech. The spontaneity of the moment was evident in the way the photographers moved, recalibrating to get the best shots of the on stage family union.

She reminded everyone that the art and media installations were all made by children the foundation had helped, and that they were all up for auction at the end of the night. 

Harry appeared more drawn when he rejoined Louis at their table. He had his elbows on the table and stared into his cup. The coffee was cold by now, but he had a sip of it anyway, fatigue evident in the lines of his face. 

“D’you want to look at the art?” Louis suggested, and Harry perked up minimally, nodding his agreement. 

It was a good way to get out of the spotlight and avoid discussions he didn’t want to have. 

They took their time examining each of the mounted art pieces. All numbered, of course, with biographies of the children who contributed the art and how they’d found the foundation and how they’d been helped.

It was both clever marketing and incredibly heartwarming, Louis happy to take his time to read about each child and what had inspired their contributions. 

Louis spotted Geoff coming through from behind the backstage curtain, just at the end of their row. Louis knew he and Harry were visible from where Geoff stood, but there was no hint of recognition or warmth when his eyes passed over them. Ever the professional, his back remained stiff as he continued to survey the crowd. 

If Geoff wanted to keep his distance it made Louis itch to approach him. It was harmless, certainly. And Geoff deserved to be congratulated on a job well done; the evening had gone quite smoothly as it was. 

But even as Louis came closer and they were face to face Geoff only nodded at Louis once before addressing Harry, “Mr. Styles, having a good time?” 

“I think it’s been good, hasn’t it?” Louis piped in. “Most definitely thanks to your good work.”

“It’s a team effort.” Geoff smiled stiffly. Up close Louis could tell what was different; his beard was groomed as sharply as the man who’d cornered Harry earlier in the night. As if the edges had been enhanced with bronzer. It reminded Louis of someone else they’d seen earlier, but his mind was muddled for the night, and he pushed the thought aside, focusing on Harry.

“‘M tired,” Harry told him, and Geoff shot Louis an inquisitive look, as if it were his fault and something he’d have to account for. 

“Very understandable, it’s been a busy night,” Geoff said. “I believe your mother and sister are starting preliminary work on the post-mortem if you’d like to take part?” He gestured towards the back.

Harry’s mouth pulled to the sides. It was a clear ‘no’ from what Louis could tell, but he wasn’t saying it. Instead he looked to Louis, almost as if he was asking permission not to attend.

“D’you want to go upstairs, then?” Louis asked, and Harry stroked the back of his hand.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I don’t think Harry needs to be up to date with the event stuff,” Louis told Geoff, who maintained his poker face. “Thank you, though.”

“Not a problem.” Geoff’s tone was syrupy, the kind of ingratiating and faux accommodation that drove Louis crazy, but that was his style. 

Fingers loosely pressed against the small of Harry’s back, Louis followed Harry out of the ballroom and through the now cleared out reception area.

Harry confidently strode towards a specific lift, a sudden burst of energy in his step, and when they stepped into it Louis was surprised by how small it was, the two of them taking most of the available space. And how _red_ the walls were. The glossy red finish was reflected onto their skin thanks to the mirror, and it gave Harry an artificial flush. 

Harry eyed the chaise under the mirror balefully, but he must’ve known that if he sat down in the lift he’d have to be dragged out once they reached their floor. 

Instead he pressed himself against the wall, the yellow of his jacket clashing with the lacquered wall. He gave Louis a wide satisfied grin. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Harry’s mouth quirked open, tongue pressing past his teeth. One word and he looked ready to pounce. Not a trace of fatigue visible anymore. Louis was glad he hadn’t more than a few sips of champagne early in the night, or he’d have been in Harry’s arms already. 

Louis took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the wall, waiting for the doors to open at their floor. He was ready to step off the lift first to secure the hallway; his training taking over even though it wasn’t needed of him right now. 

Harry adapted and easily crowded against Louis’ back even as they reached their floor and the doors slid open. His fingers were deft along Louis’ shoulders and down his biceps even as they stepped off the lift.

“I’m trying to secure the premises. Do you mind?” Louis half-heartedly shrugged, but Harry saw through him and held on.

“I think you know that’s not necessary,” Harry chastised. He nosed along the back of Louis’ throat, rubbed the line of his hair. Harry squeezed his arms, a happy hum coming from the back of his throat. “You smell so good tonight.”

Louis’ eyes fluttered closed, his exhale a whisper of breath. He was momentarily overwhelmed. 

And when he opened his eyes, sharply inhaling through his nose he could swear he sensed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned towards it, Harry not retreating, plastered against Louis’ back, arms now wrapped around his ribcage. 

No doors were open, and the stillness settled over them like a blanket. 

The back of Louis’ neck prickled. 

Harry took the stillness as a cue to make his move, and he inched closer until his mouth caught against the corner of Louis’. 

But even that wasn’t enough to distract Louis. Despite it being the perfect time to give in; he resisted.

“Why’re you stalling?” Harry murmured, his breath warming him from the outside. 

“Just thought I heard something.”

Harry tilted his head back, as if only just realizing how close they were standing, and that they technically were still in public. But his hands stayed around Louis’ middle, his fingers curling in, as if preemptively protecting Louis.

“Daniels?” Harry called, out, projecting his voice to the left hallway. One of the doors was barely visible from where they stood, and that’s what Louis was focused on.

It opened, and the millisecond that it took for the person to step outside the door and round the corner had Louis’ heart in his throat. 

As a tall man stepped into view, Harry relaxed around Louis, which signalled he wasn’t a threat. He had a bit of a surprised look on his face, which he quickly straightened, as well as his stance. 

“You alright?” Harry asked, indicating that this was the ‘Daniels’ he’d called for earlier. 

“Yes, sir,” Daniels assumed a subservient posture, head just slightly tilted down. “Didn’t expect anyone back at this time. Are things wrapping up already?” Daniels addressed Harry personally, as if Louis weren’t even there. 

“Just a bit tired, s’all, wanted an early night,” Harry said and yawned demonstratively. Louis could still feel the heat of him, his grip still firm around Louis’ waist

David nodded his understanding. “Goodnight, sirs,” he said before returning around the corner and closing the door behind him. 

“I don’t think anyone was watching,” Harry mumbled to Louis, steering him to the left, in the direction of their room.

 

/

 

“Did you have fun?” Louis asked as soon as the door clicked shut behind them and he watched Harry throw himself on the bed dramatically. He kicked his feet in the air, and Louis knew that this meant he wanted his shoes off, but didn’t have the energy to do it himself. 

Louis’ lips curled into a reluctant smile before he straightened his features and headed towards him. Still standing up, he gently undid the laces on Harry’s shoes, prying them carefully off of his feet. Harry looked at him from where he lay, toes wiggling as soon as his socks came off.

”No, I didn’t,” Harry said with a defiant tilt of his chin. 

Louis let go of Harry’s feet, fingertips brushing along his now bare ankles and he arched his brows, not attempting to hide his surprise. “You didn’t?”

Harry quickly pulled his legs under him, kneeling on the bed. His hair was wild, loose halo of curls around his head. It made him look far more innocent than he actually was.

“This is the safest I’ve ever been, and still you won’t let loose even a little bit.” His mouth settled into a stubborn line, and he narrowed his eyes at Louis. 

“Me not drinking ruined your fun?” Louis asked, a tickle in his throat making his lips quirk. 

“We’re not in front of anyone now,” Harry said, the innocent look far away as he smirked. He looked like he was ready to pounce, like he possessed grace, although Louis knew that it was far from the truth. That he could barely keep himself from falling over even when he was completely sober.

Harry was right, though. At this particular moment the two of them were in an executive suite that was guarded by Twist Ltd’s security, as well as the Savoy’s own safeguards. The floor was only accessible via keycard. The hotel itself was practically on lockdown. And they were behind closed doors. “Hm, maybe I’m a little thirsty. Just a little,” he said, pinching his lip. 

“So, what shall I make you. I can bartend,” Harry said with glee and got up, he nearly stumbled off the bed, catching himself and winking at Louis before collecting himself.

There was a fully stocked bar cart by the bed, and Harry leaned on the handles, using one hand to gesture at the contents as if he were a car model. “We’ve got a fine selection here.” 

There was a small bucket on the top of the cart, and Harry opened it up, ready to display the ice. When it tipped open it was empty, and Harry exclaimed, “No ice!”

There was a mini-fridge right under the wall mounted telly, and Harry walked over, a hand on his hip. 

When he got to the fridge he didn’t crouch, instead he leaned down, intentionally flaunting his arse in Louis’ direction. “Plenty of ice in here,” he said, popping back up, but still keeping the artificial, exaggerated, completely out of character stance. He was such a bloody dork. 

Louis buried his face in his palms, unable to contain the laughter that wanted to come out. He was so dangerously close to slipping, for the front to fall off entirely. A few drinks would probably help. “Dealer’s choice,” he said.

“Well, get comfortable, sir,” Harry said with a shake off his head as he waved his finger toward the bed. His tone was playful, even though he tried to look stern. But Louis just gave into the laughter and nodded his agreement.

“Of course,” he said, getting on the bed. The pillows were piled high, enough that he could lean back comfortably and steeple his fingers behind his head. He watched as Harry filled the bucket with ice from the mini-fridge. 

“I think you need a witch's brew,” Harry said, picking a highball and scooping ice into it. He wriggled his fingers in the air, as if in indecision, before picking up a bottle of rum and pouring a substantial amount into the glass. A splash of grenadine, a bit of tequila. Something that looked like bitters.

“Can I do shots instead?” Louis watched Harry concoct the drink with a grimace. Harry wasn’t even using a soda or juice--of which there were plenty of in the fridge--that might mix the abominable taste, but instead topped the glass up with sparkling water before giving it a quick stir.

“Absolutely not.” Harry chose to carry the drink to the bed, one hand cupped under the glass just in case there would be a spill. Louis was impressed with how well balanced Harry seemed to be at this very moment. As he kneed onto the bed, and very carefully shuffled towards Louis. He managed to straddle him, rejecting the offer of assistance Louis gave him. “Voila,” Harry said, handing it over, expectantly watching as Louis raised the glass to his lips.

Harry shifted his shoulders, rolling out his neck. Somehow, he seemed back to being slightly out of it, his face smooth and relaxed. “Well?” he asked impatiently as he shrugged off his jacket. He proceeded to start fingering the buttons of his blouse.

“Cheers.” If Harry was going to put on a show, Louis could, as well. The first sip felt like sandpaper in his Louis’ mouth. He swallowed it quickly, and blinked. He took another gulp, quickly, to avoid the instinct to roll his lips and keep his mouth shut.

It was better on the second go around, then again, Harry’s shirt was completely open now, his nipples almost on display. Louis took a third swallow and imagined himself leaning closer to Harry, thumb teasing his nipples until he fell over on his own and Louis followed, drink forgotten on the nightstand.

It would probably work, in the moment, at least, and Louis wasn’t delusional enough to think that wasn’t where the night was going, but. Harry wanted to play bartender. They probably wouldn’t have an opportunity like this again in a very, very long time -- _if not ever_ , an intrusive thought said, one that had been more and more frequent since Louis realized how he really felt about Harry.

But it could wait. He’d finish the drink, have another if Harry wanted to make him one, and in general do whatever it was Harry would desire for now.

“Well?” Harry swiped the pad of his thumb along the wetness of Louis’ lips. 

“Disgusting,” Louis said, and saluted Harry with the drink before downing the rest. 

Harry hummed, taking the glass from Louis and sticking his tongue in the glass as he tipped it towards him. A few drops remained, and as soon as they made contact with his tongue he slurped exaggeratedly. 

“I think disgusting was putting it nicely.” 

Louis squeezed at Harry’s hips, his palms pleasantly full of Harry’s love handles protruding from the way he was sat.

But he didn’t get to touch Harry for much longer, since he quickly got up and went to the bar cart. This time he found a can of tonic and started measuring out an actual G&T. 

“Must’ve been nice to see your family again,” Louis said, thinking back on Harry’s joke answer that he hadn’t enjoyed the gala. Sure, he didn’t seem to share much of the corporate interest, but-- 

The only reason he’d even agreed to a bodyguard--to _Louis_ , specifically-- was because of how much he respected Anne and Gemma, and didn’t want them to be concerned for his safety. So Louis knew that Harry cared greatly about them, and supporting their work would still give him some joy. 

“They seem good. They did good.” His mouth tightened, and he moved to scratch the back of his neck. It seemed more a of a soothing gesture as he kept at it, his shirt getting rucked up and wrinkled from the movement. 

Louis knew Harry missed them, missed being home. As much as he had a full schedule, friends and good times in Toronto, he didn’t seem to have much of a purpose. Or else he wouldn’t have broken down a few weeks earlier. Louis’ ribs still tightened when he thought of it. 

“You know, you said you didn’t want to work with the company, but what about the foundation?”

Normally Louis wouldn’t initiate a conversation like this; would allow Harry to pour it all out to him, and managed to refrain from getting too involved. It was ridiculous, but it felt like overstepping. That by making a suggestion, a thought, offering guidance he’d be interfering. 

Louis felt that fear so acutely that he near expected Harry to throw his drink in Louis’ face. He’d accept it, if that happened. 

Still despite Louis’ nerves, it seemed the first drop of alcohol, the dissipation of nerves that had taken residence in his chest wouldn’t stop him from speaking, from tangling himself further, “You could set up screenings for underprivileged youth, or families. Or foreign films-- those rarely get screened right? I’m sure there’s lots of immigrants who would love to be reminded of home, see it on the big screen.”

Louis knew Harry heard him, because of his sudden stillness, the stiffness of his shoulders. 

Louis smacked his lips, and the words were growing at the base of his throat, wanting to rush out. He hoped for Harry to hand him the drink so he could busy his mouth with something else, but he still hadn’t turned around. 

Harry blinked at him, and his face was indecipherable. It was happening more and more lately, that Louis couldn’t figure out what exactly Harry was thinking. He knew it was because his own feelings were getting in the way, tainting any clean read he might have. His own motivations and desires clouding his perception. 

But for now he’d settle for Harry not being outright offended by Louis overstepping the line.

Harry simply blinked at him, and handed the drink over. “Yeah, maybe,” he muttered, just as he went back to making a drink for himself.

It was quick after that that Louis lost his inhibitions. He’d wanted to succumb to it, and getting loosened up allowed him not to overthink what he said, what he did. 

Harry had made it back to the bed, on his side, propped up against the pillows. He’d lightened the mood again by burying his face in Louis’ neck, insisting he smelled different than usual. 

“I don’t have anything special on,” Louis said, voice going high just as Harry’s fingers dug into his armpits. “That tickles!” His shoulders curved inward as he tried to shield himself.

Harry wasn’t entirely discouraged, moving on to rub his fingers against Louis’ nipples, his chin resting squarely on Louis’ chest. His shirt had been opened wide earlier and was just hanging off his arms, bunched up behind his back.

“I’m telling you something’s different. You smell different.”

“I just washed and showered.” Louis’ fingers found Harry’s scalp, ruffling his hair as if shampooing it. Harry continued to frown, but his eyes fluttered closed.

“Hold on--” Harry rose to his knees, “--then it’s not your regular soap? Lotion? Anything?” 

“It’s my regular everything.” Louis shrugged. “Didn’t bring it with me to Toronto, though, got something else there.” 

“That’s it-- I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this.”

“Well I’m here now--All yours.” Louis spread his arms out, he tried to look at least a little seductive, but he kept having to bite back his laughter. His chest felt flushed as well, with Harry’s attention and the thought that Harry might’ve gotten so accustomed to his smell he could really, actually tell the difference when Louis changed soaps. It was surreal. 

As was the way Harry looked at him, teeth biting into his bottom lip as he asked, “Really?” 

Louis dropped his arms again, hugging himself. He wasn’t rescinding the offer, but-- “Except for tickling.”

“I can work with that,” Harry said, eyes shining. 

Louis exhaled, his chest fluttering with the want to rise up and kiss Harry. But he’d handed himself over for now, and was going to go at Harry’s pace. He pressed his front teeth together, giving a tilt to his chin that that could be misinterpreted for defiance. 

But Harry saw through it, his smile wide. “Okay.” He pulled at Louis’ arms, still folded over his chest. He moved Louis’ hands towards the headboard. “Hold on to this.” 

It was an easy grip, and Louis tensed his arm muscles. Harry went for the back of Louis’ arm, now exposed. He hummed as he nosed down the sensitive skin, Louis on the verge of kicking his legs out and pulling away the closer Harry got to his armpit.

But Harry never got there. He straddled Louis instead and seared their lips together, and Louis responded easily, Harry’s weight against him pushing him deeper into the pillows.

Louis’ throat vibrated with a groan, the sound swallowed up by their hungry mouths and Harry’s mutterings. 

“Christ, Lou--” Harry said before burrowing his face behind Louis’ ear. “How much else have I been missing out on?”

“Nothing,” Louis muttered, his mouth out of his control. He strained his arms, triceps going tense. He was holding his breath, he realized, waiting for Harry’s next move. 

“Hmm.” Harry got up, moving towards the nightstand. “Get undressed, yeah?” Harry asked as he looked for something.

Louis didn’t have much left on, but he was quick, kicking his clothes off the bed. He was fast enough that Harry was still shimmying out of his trousers and pants.

And still, Louis gripped the headboard again, waiting for Harry to join him. Just watching Harry nearly tripping over himself, condom and lube in one of his fists and his tongue sticking out-- even that was enough to remind Louis of how gone he was for Harry.

Louis swallowed thickly, watching as Harry got back on the bed. He kissed Louis again, and without warning wrapped Louis’ cock in his lubed up hand. 

“Ah--” Louis nearly bit his tongue at the surprise, hips chasing Harry’s touch. 

“All mine, yeah,” Harry said, before ducking down to tongue around Louis’ nipple. His hand disappeared from Louis’ cock, but he didn’t let up with his mouth.

Harry was panting, teeth carelessly pressing into Louis’ chest when he realized what Harry was doing, the slick sound unmistakable, especially with the way Harry’s thighs were trembling. His mouth was slack, his arm reaching behind himself, moving rhythmically. 

“Do you want me--” Louis started, fingers itching to touch, to be the one to open Harry up. His throat went dry before he finished, watching Harry’s mouth drop open, breath cut short.

“No-- don’t move,” Harry said when he recovered, followed by a pout. “‘Sides, I think-- I think I’m good.”

Louis wasn’t so sure, even as Harry’s eyes were half-lidded as he sighed and picked at the condom. It kept slipping through his fingers, and landed on Louis’ stomach.

“Maybe I can do this?” Louis asked, keeping his tone suggestive. 

Harry gave in, pressing the condom against Louis’ chest. He wriggled a bit impatiently as Louis put on the condom. Louis’ fingers were practically numb, and he allowed Harry to take over, reaching between them and positioning Louis so he could slide right in.

Harry kept his eyes locked with Louis’. Louis could feel the beads of sweat at his temple, the slow roll down his flushed face. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep his feelings locked up tight, indecipherable. 

Louis couldn’t pretend that he didn’t feel more for Harry than he should. He was completely gone for him and right now-- right now Louis felt the most exposed yet. 

Even as he let Harry rake his fingers down Louis’ chest, rocking back and shifting his weight before rolling his hips in earnest.

“Fuck-- Harry, can I--” Louis swallowed again, eyes darting between Harry’s hard cock, smearing precum on Louis’ skin; Harry’s open mouth, begging to be tasted, and his eyes, his chest-- “Can I touch you, please?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry nodded, his arms wrapping around Louis’ neck.

Allowed to touch again Louis was left feeling like time stood still. Harry’s skin was as hot to the touch as Louis expected, his ribs rising and falling, under Louis’ palms. He throbbed inside of Harry, the need to move, do something, overwhelming him. 

But they weren’t in a rush, not tonight.

 

/

 

The next morning, Louis started awake from the sound of a knock on the door. “Harry,” he whispered, alert at once. “Someone’s at the door.”

“Mhm, breakfast,” Harry muttered. He lifted his head just high enough to smile at Louis and show off the way his hair stuck to the side of his face. 

“We haven’t ordered breakfast.” Louis couldn’t decide whether to get up, prepare to shoo off whoever was at the door, or slip back under the covers and let Harry deal with it. He was the one who was excited about it all.

“It’s part of the butler service, a personal wake up call with coffee and croissants.” Harry smacked his lips. “Come in!” he called out before stretching out, his hair wild and feet sticking out from under the covers.

“The door isn’t open, silly,” Louis teased, his chest aching. He slipped his fingers through Harry’s hair so he could kiss Harry’s cheek before getting up.

“Coming!” There were two dressing gowns hung behind the door, and Louis quickly tied one on. 

When Louis opened the door the hallway was empty. No one was stood around the corner, the corridor undisturbed. Louis might’ve thought he took too long except another trio of knocks sounded, clear as day.

This wasn’t the door that they were waiting behind. 

Louis had noticed a second door when they’d stumbled in the night before. He walked over to it now, not a forethought other than securing his gown properly. 

Even in nothing but a dressing gown and a facemask, Louis recognized Gemma immediately. She was the person who’d been knocking; not the butler. Louis had to fight his reflex to close the door again, fingers gripping tightly along the edge of the door.

“Hello.”

Louis cleared his throat and tried to keep his tone even as he called back into the room, “Harry, your sister wants to see you.” 

There was an, “Oh,” from Harry and the sound of him scrambling to his feet. He nearly fell off the bed, but he recovered easily and wrapped himself in one of the sheets. 

Louis watched him, the determined set of his jaw as he looked at Gemma. Harry glanced at Louis when he got to him, and squeezed his shoulder before he stepped through the doorway into Gemma’s side of the suite and closed the door behind him.

Louis screwed his eyes shut, allowing himself one deep breath before he acted.

He needed to leave, now.

Louis didn’t know how much time he had before Harry returned. His clothes were all in a pile by the bed and he pulled on his pants and trousers quick, slipping his shirt on. 

His coat had been hung up by the door and he grabbed it on the way out, hugging it to his chest as he stepped into the corridor. Louis had hoped he’d have time this morning to warn Harry about what the all hands on deck meeting would reveal and his stomach-- Christ, his stomach clenched at the opportunity slipping him by. He should’ve said something last night instead of getting caught up in Harry’s orbit. 

Instead Louis was now sneaking out Harry’s room and would have to put his best professional face back on when he saw him again in a few hours. 

He only had himself to blame, really. 

There was a man already waiting for the lift when Louis approached. He slipped on his coat then, zipping it shut over his still open shirt below. He pushed at his fringe, sweeping it away from his eyes.

“Morning,” Louis said, trying to imbue some pep in his voice, as if he weren’t wearing the same clothes as the night before and sleep in his eyes.

Louis’ smile stiffened when the man turned towards him, scrutinizing his appearance. He was instantly recognizable as Patrick David Turner, the man who’d approached Harry the night before, but this morning there was nothing warm in his expression. 

“Rough night?” Turner asked pointedly. He’d taken in Louis’ dishevelled state, walk of shame outfit, and was unimpressed. He brought his fingers to his cheek in a way that suggested Louis should do the same. Louis resisted, however. If he had something on his face he was better off pretending it was supposed to be there.

“You know how it is,” Louis said, winking, trying to appear unaffected. 

“You’re with Neon, aren’t you?” Turner said, charm turned on as he offered Louis his hand. 

“Yes, that’s right.” 

His handshake was firm, and Turner hummed, processing the information. Harry had said Turner had offered him jobs repeatedly, had offered Anne the services of Twist security instead of hiring a new company. No doubt he was currently questioning the expertise of the team Harry had chosen to work with. “Are you always this”--Turner waved his hand at Louis-- “hands on?” 

Louis should’ve taken the stairs. Or really, he should’ve taken his time getting dressed. He might have avoided Turner altogether then. 

“It’s a case by case basis.”

Turner continued, “You know if things are getting too much for you, we’d be happy to step in to provide some support, from corporate.”

“The team is great, thank you,” Louis said with the widest fakest smile he could manage. 

“Yes, your colleagues handling the event certainly inspired confidence.” It was an insult veiled as a compliment, and Louis let it slide. 

The lift arrived and Turner stepped inside, holding the door open for Louis. Louis was left with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, even as he faked another smile and stepped into the lift. 

 

/

 

Louis rushed back to his flat, his head still throbbing and his shoelaces still untied. He’d showered and finished two cups of coffee stood in his kitchen as he tried to ground himself. He ended up pacing around his flat, thinking of ways to explain to Harry that this wasn't his choice and it couldn't be avoided. 

When Louis arrived to the Neon offices the conference room was being set up; stapled briefs being placed in front of each chair, glasses and filled pitchers of water at the center of the table. It was so sterile and so far from being on the field. It didn’t feel right.

Louis would’ve liked to avoid the meeting altogether, would’ve liked to just temporarily step outside his role as lead on Harry’s detail so he could talk to Harry in private, separately. But he’d had the chance to do that, as recently as last night, and he hadn’t.

He caved before Steve came and got him, and texted Harry, asking him to stick around after the meeting so they could talk. It was a cop out, and even as Anne and Harry filed into the room and greeted him, Louis couldn’t decipher whether Harry had seen the text.

There was a progress assessment, to summarize what they’d found about everything. Gemma’s situation had remained the same with no escalated threats, which was positive. But there weren’t substantial developments when it came to tracking down what was happening overseas. As Louis guessed, the envelope and the DVD case yielded no results, and beyond.

“There’s also the issue of the breach, Tomlinson--” Steve started. His tone was still level and calm, but that last word skewered its way into Louis’ ears. There it was, the reason they were all here. “Would you like to go over the situation?” Steve continued, and Louis swallowed. 

Louis leaned back in his seat, pushing his report open. “A few weeks ago I was followed on my day off. It could be a coincidence but we think it’s related to whoever is targeting your family, and Harry. So I’ll be rotating out of Harry’s detail to maintain the integrity of his safety.” 

Anne’s mouth tightened, and she flipped her report open, looking for the page that contained all the details. She nodded along as she scanned the page. Harry, on the other hand, tucked his chin closer to his throat, something of a scowl taking over his features. He didn’t look at the report, or his mum, or even Louis. 

Christ, Louis hoped Harry had seen his text.

“We don’t want Harry’s safety to be compromised and-- well the whole point was to be discrete,” Louis said, speaking to Anne, fighting the urge to address Harry directly.

“They know you’re my bodyguard?

Steve said, “It is standard procedure to keep a rotation on for these high stakes cases. Exactly to avoid these things.” He directed his words to Anne and Harry.

“Well, as long as it’s not that Harry has been giving you trouble,” Anne told Louis. It was an attempt to keep the mood light, he could tell, based on the tension in the corner of her mouth, the way her hand grabbed for Harry’s. 

Harry wasn’t on her page, asked, “What about my classes? People expect to see Louis there, don’t they? What if they ask where he went?” 

“You can tell them it’s personal, he deferred or dropped out. Up to you. It happens all the time,” Steve said. He’d brought in a cup of coffee for himself and sipped at it. For him this was just another meeting, another reconfiguration of the chess board.

If it weren’t for Louis’ inconvenient feelings for Harry he’d be on the same page, but as it was, his gut twisted uneasily at Harry’s questions, his transparent concern. 

“Won’t it be suspect that someone else is replacing him?” 

“Whoever it ends up being they won’t be joining you in class. They’ll just, wait outside. The professors and students have all been vetted, and we went over it all again with a fine tooth comb. It’ll just look like I dropped out. Nothing suspect.”

Harry’s mouth had gone tight, his shoulders still. “Have you decided on the substitution yet?”

“We have some frontrunners, but your input is welcome.” Steve said. “You’re invited to conduct an interview with them if you wish, before we make any final calls.”

It was the kind of control that should’ve appealed to Harry; being able to vet people and suss them out. Which is why Louis was shocked when Harry shook his head, a thin sigh escaping his mouth.

“Whoever you think is best is fine.”

“Well,” Steve turned to Anne, “I know Geoff expressed interest. You worked with him for the gala.”

“Oh, yes, he did an excellent job.” She turned to Harry, fingers tapping his wrist. “Even the US team was impressed with him which is very unusual, isn’t it?”

“Mhm,” he agreed, somewhat reluctantly. He was done speaking, and remained silent for the rest of the meeting. 

He left early as well, and Louis itched to follow him outside, which he was stopped from doing by Anne. She wanted to know if he’d enjoyed himself at the gala, if he was alright after being followed-- her concern was genuine and lovely but the timing couldn’t have been worse. 

Louis would have to find a way to speak with Harry at another time, his head throbbing at the shit he’d gotten himself in. He still had so much work left to do. There were flights to reschedule, briefs to write, and logistics to untangle.

He was getting a headache just thinking about the minutiae he’d have to pore over for the next few hours. That was the only reason he didn’t notice that Harry was waiting for him at his desk, arms crossed and mouth pinched. 

“You got my text,” Louis said, somewhat stupidly. He’d gotten himself a fresh cup of tea to tide him over the rest of the day, and he set it on his desk. Harry moved to allow him to take a seat, his watchful eye giving Louis shivers.

“Was it bullshit?” Harry asked.

“Was what?” Louis asked on an exhale. He scratched at the back of his neck, the fine hairs there stood on end at the scrutiny he was under. 

“The reason for you leaving?” Harry cocked an eyebrow, his voice slower than normal to really emphasize his accusation. “You know if this is about Gemma-- she doesn’t care. She’s not going to tell anyone.”

Louis believed him. Which hurt most of all. If they’d been caught by someone early on-- Louis would’ve probably considered that Harry orchestrated the whole thing to put Louis in a bad light. But now? No. Louis knew that there was no way Harry would do that to him. 

“It isn’t about her. But thank you.”

“So that doesn’t change anything?” 

“No.”

Harry had come closer, close enough that he could lean back against Louis’ desk and sit on it if he wanted, if there’d been enough space. But instead he stood stock still, shielding Louis from the rest of the office. It gave them the semblance of privacy, eyes locked and the space between them small enough that they could keep their voices low. “Were you going to tell me you were being followed?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” Louis said on an exhale, not missing the way Harry furrowed his brow; the line between his eyes practically chiseled there. “I didn’t want to add more to your plate. You don’t--” Louis stopped himself. It was true that he didn’t want to add more stress to Harry’s life; make him feel like more of a target because not only was _he_ on someone’s radar, but as was the person who was supposed to protect him. “I was hoping you wouldn’t have to know until we’d solved the situation. Wanted to tell you then. I didn’t want to leave.”

Harry pinched his lips, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled. 

The tension in Louis’ shoulder and neck had moved to his chest now, lungs and belly tight as he watched Harry process things. They wouldn’t have been able to get away with this, taking their time, in the meeting. This was better, Louis told himself. “You know, whoever replaces me is going to do a good job. They’ll have all the information. Niall and Liam-- they’ll still be around, yeah?”

Harry shook his head. “It’s not that. I get it, okay? I get that you can’t stay with me. I got you in danger.” Harry’s face screwed up at the last word. That’s when Louis realized Harry wasn’t angry at him. He was worried. His steely exterior, the scowl, the stiff shoulders and the crossed arms: it was just a facade that he was trying to keep together. His inner control freak refusing to show a crack.

Louis yearned to take Harry’s hands into his own, circle his wrists and press his thumb against his pulse point. Anything to calm him down. Stop blaming himself. But this wasn’t the space for that kind of display. “Harry-- it’s part of the job. It’s not you. I’ll still be working on stuff just not-- around.”

Harry laughed, a fragile, reedy sound, and said, “‘It’s not you, it’s the job’?” He licked his lips before grimacing. Louis reached for him, fingers lacing with Harry’s. It was innocent enough, and no one was watching. But judging from the way Harry squeezed his hand he knew it was appreciated.

Harry sniffed, pulling away, steeling himself again. “Sorry, bad joke.” He shook his head. “I think mum is waiting for me,” he said, his voice wobbly. “Don’t worry about me, alright.”

“Impossible,” Louis said, managing a feeble smile, even as Harry tilted his chin up and shifted his weight. He was back to a scowl, but Louis could see past it now. 

Harry’s eyes skittered over Louis’ face, locking with Louis’ gaze and a muttered but heartfelt, “Thank you,” the last thing he said before leaving Louis to his paperwork.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done, at last! This took much longer for me to wrap up than I expected-- but it's also much longer than I anticipated. Massive thanks go out to my trusty betas who helped make sense of my gibberish.

Returning to Toronto was unavoidable: Louis had to vacate the shared flat so Geoff could move in, for one, and Louis still wanted to stick around for a bit to make sure the handover went smoothly, tidy up bits and pieces with their contacts, and the like. 

He hadn’t planned on telling Harry that he’d be back, mostly because it was better to make a clean break, especially since they couldn’t see each other even if they wanted to. 

It was still frustrating, knowing that he was in the same city as Harry without him knowing. This way he was suffering alone, and it made him miserable. 

Miserable enough that Liam and Niall noticed, but they misread it as Louis holding a grudge against Geoff for taking his spot. Louis was fine going along with it; he didn’t have any professional issues with Geoff, he was competent and had been eager from the beginning. But that was part of what chafed at Louis. Things would’ve been different if he’d been on the case from the start. Might even have been better, with none of these stops and starts.

So when Niall instigated a pile on, who was Louis to derail it? 

“You know what I think? I think Geoff's problem is that he cares too much.” Niall lifted his beer to emphasize his point.

“Here here,” Louis chimed in, clinking glasses with Niall. 

Liam, however, was left on the defense, tilting his jaw up, frowning at them. “I thought we all cared,” Liam said.

The three of them had gone out for beers at the Horseshoe, a proper night out that they hadn’t been able to indulge in for months. There was a concert at the back of the bar, and they’d managed to squeeze in past the crowd for it, claiming the sofa chairs at the front.

Niall tilted his head back, rolling his neck.“I know you care. I know Tommo does too.”

“And you?” Liam prodded, as if he didn’t know the answer.

Niall shook his head in disbelief, eyes wide. “Yes. I, too, care about catching this bad guy. He's a worthy opponent, obviously.”

“Okay, so what’s wrong with caring?”

There was no point in Niall trying to lower his voice, not with the sound carrying from the concert, but he did try. Still, Louis heard him as he addressed Liam, “Liam, I know you mean well, but we’re shittalking Geoff right now cause he stole Louis’ job.”

It wasn’t exactly how Louis would describe what happened, but he appreciated Niall’s enthusiasm in defending him. Still, he raised his eyebrows at Niall. He couldn’t be allowed to think this type of thing was encouraged; Niall still had to work with Geoff after all, and he couldn’t carry any resentment towards him. 

Liam narrowed his eyes. “That’s not--” 

“Shh, details. We’re team Tommo, aren’t we?” Niall asked, but the way he took a pull off his beer suggested it was rhetorical. Liam nodded his agreement, fingers loosening around his glass. “Then please, join in, what annoys you about Geoff?” Niall nodded towards Louis, suggesting this would be good.

Louis licked his lips, raised his eyebrows. Liam had a different relationship with him, after all; they hadn’t gone up for the same assignments, there was no jealousy or one-upmanship between them.

“He’s too tidy? He does laundry all the time. It’s quite unnerving.”

That wasn’t exactly the kind of complaint Louis could bask in. 

Niall was displeased as well, narrowing his eyes at Liam. “That’s all you’ve got?”

Liam scratched at his jaw, Niall gave Louis a nervous glance, his plan to spend all night railing on Geoff clearly backfiring.

“Alright, why don’t I let you lads get your story straight. I need a burger.” Louis clapped them both on the shoulders before getting up, walking around them towards the bar. He’d only had half of his beer and he wasn’t keen on more, nothing on draught appealing to him. 

He scanned the room and caught sight of the neon restaurant sign shining like a beacon, a new direction in mind. He could eat something. A nice double burger and fries wouldn’t be wrong. 

There was more of a crowd toward the back of the bar; a couple of guys playing pool, the loos right around the corner and concertgoers slipping past. Louis was lucky enough that there was no line at the A&W take out window. 

The screen was too bright in the dim light of the bar, and Louis squinted at it, the photos of the burgers slightly lacking and being left with cutesy names wasn’t helpful. Was he supposed to know what the difference between a Mama burger and a Grandpa burger was? He pressed through each of the combos trying to figure out which he was in the mood for.

“Louis?” 

It was Harry’s voice, clear as day, and Louis stiffened where he stood. 

Louis turned, his ears burning, temples throbbing. “Hey,” he said, his voice feeling detached from himself. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t one of Harry’s spots, he’d never been--or, well. He’d never been here with Louis. 

Louis swallowed, looking toward the backroom that was quickly emptying out. Harry must’ve been at the concert. Shit.

“Have you ordered already?” Harry asked, nodding towards the screen. Louis stepped away, back against the bar, nearly knocking over a pitcher of water. He should grab himself a glass, it would be a good excuse to keep himself occupied as Harry stepped into his space.

They were stood awfully close, and Louis was painfully aware of the crowd around them. Geoff must’ve been right behind Harry somewhere, along with whoever else had come to the concert. Louis wanted to shrink in on himself and avoid being seen. This was awkward enough; he didn’t want Geoff to think he was checking in on him or something. 

“Were you here for the show?” Harry pressed against the screen, making his selections. His voice was painfully light, trying to make it seem normal that they should run into each other thousands of miles away from the place they’d last seen each other.

Louis’ shoulders were tight and high, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm. “I wasn’t, no, but I heard some of it. Sounded good.” 

“You came all this way just for a root beer?” Harry said, moving over to give Louis space to place his order. 

“‘M just here for the water, actually,” Louis said, responding to Harry’s question as if it were a serious one, pointing his thumb towards the pitchers. 

“Right.” Harry’s eyebrows were raised and he watched Louis pour himself a cup of water. Louis could feel his eyes burning against his neck. He hadn’t been gone long enough for Niall and Liam to come looking for him, but God did he wish they’d come and save him.

Louis took a sip of his lukewarm water, and then smiled with his lips pressed closed. His heart hammered in his chest waiting for Harry’s next question. He could tell there was one on the tip of his tongue as it poked out of his mouth. 

There was a sharp sound as the take out window opened and Harry’s food was delivered. That moment of split attention was the best time to leave. “See you, have a good night,” Louis said, words tumbling out as he turned to leave, his lungs feeling tight.

Fuck.

Louis wasn’t proud of walking away, but his fingertips were still vibrating, the back of his neck prickling. It didn’t feel like a run in between two people who’d worked together, not to him, at least, and he couldn’t trust himself to not give that away, not in the moment.

He knew Harry would look for him, so he only stopped to pick up his jacket and give Liam and Niall a feeble excuse as to why he needed to leave before stepping outside.

They would understand when they saw that Harry -- and Geoff-- was there. 

But still, Louis expected to be pestered about it by Niall if nothing else.

Were Louis staying at the shared flat, he could’ve walked, but he had only made it through two nights there, sleeping on the sofa. All his belongings had been packed into boxes and suitcases and wherever he was he found himself in the way, so he’d caved and gotten out.

As it was, he could take the streetcar home but the stop was right across the bar-- he shook his head, plucking a cigarette out of the pocket of his jacket. 

It was cold but he could walk ahead another stop or two and catch the streetcar from a safer location. One that wasn’t quite so close to where Harry and Geoff would wait for their car. 

His ears burned with the cold and he sucked on his cigarette as he walked. Still, he was grateful he had a place of his own where he could decompress and avoid the topic. Like a real grown up. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he picked it up, expecting to see a text from Niall telling him off for ditching them. He skipped a step when he actually saw what the text was.

**Were you going to tell me you were back in town?**

Louis stared at it, recognized Harry’s number. When Louis had told Harry to memorize his number in case of emergencies, this wasn’t what he’d had in mind. 

His fingers were freezing and he didn’t know what to say, so he slipped his phone back in his pocket. He’d answer later on, when he actually figured out what he was supposed to say. 

Louis hadn’t planned on telling Harry he’d been in town, possibly not ever, but that wasn’t the right thing to answer, was it?

The wind battered against him as he waited for the streetcar, his lapels folded up to shield his face from the wind. It felt like an appropriate punishment for running off like a scared boy.

He’d worked so hard at staying away from Harry, avoiding all the spots he knew Harry frequented. Even going so far as to staying in the westernmost point of the city, far, far away from campus, from his place and his mates’ places… And yet here he was.

 

/

 

Harry’s question was still on Louis’ mind in the morning. He hadn’t opened the actual text, just swiped away the notification and ignored it. Which just meant it was there, waiting for him when he checked his phone in the morning.

Louis focused on answering the texts he’d received from Niall and Liam; wishing Liam luck on his shift and telling Niall he’d be by later.

Once that was out of the way it was impossible to ignore Harry’s old text. It still lingered, bold and unread. Louis blew out a long breath, still not certain how to navigate the situation. He feared telling Harry they couldn’t see each other but he feared even more that Harry wouldn’t even want to. That might be worse.

A coffee might help the situation, but the coffee in the AirBNB was some fancy espresso machine, and the sight of it alone reminded him of Harry and his ridiculous coffee orders. 

Everything about the place reminded him of Harry, really. From _The Shining_ poster hanging above the bed to the potted plant. No telly, but rows of books lining the wall. Some that Harry would like, no doubt.

He just had to leave the house, was all.

He was properly bundled up, with a hat pulled low over his ears to shield him from the wind. There was a Tim’s around the corner, and the quality of the coffee may be questionable but-- the likelihood of Harry being there, too, was slim to none.

And that was really all that mattered to Louis at the moment. 

The light was too bright inside the shop, but it was somewhat warm. A few people sat by the windows, nursing cups of soup and coffee. There was a sign about loitering in the shop, but Louis doubted it was being actively enforced.

He looked up at the menu before joining the queue. They had paninis now. And soup. He could probably grab lunch here before going to see Niall. 

Just as Louis stepped into the queue he recognized the gait of the man who just left the line with a cup. Louis neck went stiff as he kept his eyes on him, he took a seat at a corner table, face slack as he rested his elbows on the table.

There was no question about it, it was Geoff. It was a bit weird to see him here, of all places-- didn’t seem like his kind of hangout. If he was alone he might not mind Louis’ company. This could be a good opportunity to bond without any active threats hanging over them.

Even as he considered it his jaw tightened, instinctively. He was reluctant, which meant it was probably for the best to make friends. Perhaps they had more in common than Louis had originally thought, since they both found themselves at the same remote coffee shop at the same time on a day off. It’s not like he knew much about Geoff beyond his work ethic and Liam and Niall’s fabricated complaints. 

Louis didn’t get a chance to join Geoff, though, as someone stepped into the shop and bypassed the register, joining Geoff at his table.

The bloke had opened the door wide, allowing a gust of chilled air to spread through the shop. It made Louis skin prickle, and he rubbed his hands together. 

Louis’ vision flattened as his brain registered that he recognized the bloke that had joined Geoff. Louis blinked until things returned to normal and he could be certain of what he saw. 

Louis managed to casually turn towards the display of sandwiches as he stepped ahead in the queue even as his pulse raced. He pulled his hat lower over his head, suddenly on guard. He went from wanting to join Geoff to wanting to avoid being spotted at all costs.

Because the bloke who was meeting with Geoff was the same one that had followed Louis.

Fuck.

Louis was certain from one look. But he needed to make absolutely sure before leaving. Shifting his weight, he allowed his gaze to wander around the shop, as if he were just distracted, not lingering anywhere for long. His heart jackhammered in his chest as he allowed himself to pause on their faces. 

There was no doubt in his mind that Geoff was meeting Louis’ tail. 

 

/

 

“This was Parkdale, huh,” Niall said, blowing air out of his mouth as he shook his head. “I guess it’s a good place for sketchy shit.”

“Hey,” Louis protested, his palm landing on his chest. “It’s _right_ by my AirBNB.” 

“Yeah, case in point.” Niall scoffed.

Louis bit down on air, grinding his teeth. He wanted to groan in frustration but he breathed through it. Instead, he looked at the surveillance footage displayed on the telly: it was a static shot of the hallway leading to Harry’s loft. He and Liam had returned to the loft from a lecture just half an hour ago. Harry was safe for the time being. Niall--and all his jokes-- weren’t part of the problem. Compartmentalize, prioritize, decipher, he recited to himself.

He’d gotten good at that over the past few hours. Compartmentalizing, prioritizing, deciphering.

“Where is Geoff now?” Louis asked, fingers fidgeting with the cup of tea Niall had made for him. That was the most important question at the moment. They wouldn’t want to be walked in Louis’ teeth worried at his lip. “Could you track him?”

“I haven’t put a tracker on him, if that’s what you’re asking,” Niall said with a snort. “Just like I never tracked you, you know.”

“I’m just worried that we don’t know where he is right now. He could be just outside the door.” Louis gestured towards the front door and they both fell silent, turning to watch it.

Louis’ gaze was locked with the door handle and he nearly expected for keys to sound as they unlocked the door and for it to swing open. The inside of his mouth felt raw, the adrenaline still coursing through him. He’d rushed over to Niall’s as soon as he could to go over what he’d seen--he hadn’t stopped to think about the fact that this flat was where Geoff was staying.

It didn’t happen. The door remained closed.

Of course it did. Of course Geoff wasn’t lurking behind the door, trying to listen in or ready to interrupt. Louis hadn’t been spotted--he was certain of that-- and they’d only just gotten together when Louis left. They had time, he repeated to himself. Walking in on Louis and Niall wouldn’t be an odd sight even if he did walk in on them.

Louis’ chest fell as he exhaled, tipping his head up to the ceiling. Still, his frown persisted, his head feeling tight. 

Niall rubbed the back of his head. “You know could do to lighten up a bit. This brooding thing doesn’t work for you.”

Louis shook his head, his first laugh of the day tickling at the back of his throat. “ _Niall._ ” He’d wanted it to sound like a reprimand but his mouth tugged to the side, softening his tone. He took a second to stretch out his shoulders, his chest opening up. He’d needed that. 

Niall’s mouth quirked into a smile, satisfied over making Louis laugh at last. “Just telling it like I see it.” He leaned back in his chair, chin dipped low. He was still serious. “So. What are you thinking?”

Louis pressed his tongue behind his teeth. “Are you sure we can talk about this here?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Do you think…” Louis hesitated, biting his lip. “Do you think he might’ve planted something here? Mics or summat?” 

Niall’s expression darkened, but he shook his head. “He has access to everything anyway. He wouldn’t gain anything from trying to listen in on us. He has your old files. Fuckin’, he’s got access to _Harry_.” Niall narrowed his eyes. “I think he had access to everything before, even.”

Louis kept worrying at his lip. That was reassuring, but it presented a different problem. “There is no way Geoff is pulling this off on his own,” Louis ventured hesitantly, his fingers prickling from what he was suggesting.

Niall bit at his knuckles, and rocked back into his seat. “Steve?” 

Louis shrugged, keeping his shoulders stiff. His words were measured, nearly stuck in his throat, “I just want to be open to all the possibilities.” 

“Fair enough, fair enough. Okay. So. It’s possible”--Niall winced, as if it pained him to consider that scenario-- “I don’t think it’s likely but it’s possible, yeah. And if that’s the case then…”

“We can’t tell them,” Louis finished for him. But they couldn’t rule it out as a possibility, as much as Louis’ own insides felt coiled with acid at the thought. 

“Right.” Niall leaned back on the sofa. Both of them stared blankly at the monitors in front of them. At least nothing was happening there. At least Harry was safe right now. 

The silence that settled between them was fragile and slippery, Louis working just to keep his breathing quiet. This wasn’t a situation he could’ve ever predicted. 

Niall broke the silence, said, “So, what, we extricate Harry and send him back to his mum?”

That was the most reasonable thing to do. It would ensure Harry’s immediate safety and deliver a bad guy to Anne.

Except this would give the perps a head start. Geoff’s identity would be out there but he was hardly the driving force behind all of this; he was just a cog in the machine.

Louis licked his lips and shifted his head from side to side. “What would you do, if there was some shadowy something after you and you found out it was someone you knew?”

Niall weighted the question, the line on his brow suggesting he was taking the question seriously. “I’d fucking play their game, wait them out. Catch ‘em red handed so I could cuff ‘em meself when they tried to pull something.” Niall scoffed, nodded at his conclusion with satisfaction. 

Until he noticed Louis was staring at him. Niall shook his head. “You don’t mean--”

“Yeah.”

Niall’s eyes went wide and he wiped his face with his hand. He stood up and started pacing the length of the room, his head ducked and mouth set. Louis just watched him. He didn’t want to press, didn’t want Niall to be convinced that this was a good idea. He wanted Niall’s honest reaction.

“It would be up to him,” Louis said, voice firm. He wasn’t even sure whether this idea he had was feasible, but-- but it was an option. It’s what he’d want to do, too. Louis had practically hand delivered Harry into the care of someone who was working against him. The very least he could do now was present him with all the options. 

“It’s playing with fire. He’s not trained.”

“We can prep him. Liam is still working with him--that’s like,” Louis shook his head, “dunno, a lot of hours. And he’s the best at this shit.”

“Yeah.” Niall tapped his fingers against the kitchen counter, having come to a stop. “It’s an option.”

Niall lifted one of the chairs that lived in the kitchen and dragged it towards the sofa, placing it just across from Louis before taking a seat. They were face to face, knees nearly brushing. He rubbed his hands along his thighs, brow furrowed. “Okay, sell it to me. How would it work?” 

/

 

So after fleshing out their alternatives with Niall, Louis texted Liam that he needed to meet with Harry that day. Luckily Harry had a meeting with his advisor at Innis that day which provided the perfect cover for Louis. He could blend in easily at the college, and he knew the place inside out. Perfect to cover up a meeting.

It would have been much easier to catch Liam up to speed and let him present Harry with the information Louis had discovered and offer him the alternative courses of action. 

But Louis wanted to be the one to deliver the news and present Harry with his options. He’d been the one to see Geoff colluding with the stalker, and he’d be in charge of executing whatever option Harry chose. He was asking Harry to essentially put his life in his hands. He couldn’t really delegate that ask, even though he trusted Liam with his life. 

Still, the guilt ate at him. Louis could feel it crowding his mind, distracting him as he waited for Harry in the Innis basement loo.

Liam had been told to bring Harry there after his meeting and make sure no one else walked in so that Louis and Harry could have an uninterrupted moment. It was the best they could do, since phones were out of the question and Louis couldn’t very well just pop up at the loft. They weren’t just trying to keep this meeting from anyone watching Harry, but also from their own side.

Louis waited by the door, keeping his ears trained for familiar footsteps. He could recognize Harry’s gait just on the sound of his steps, and he could picture the way Harry’s shoulders stooped as he walked, his long strides giving an air of determination, even when there was no particular destination in mind. 

It was ten past two, which meant Harry and Liam should be down there any second.

Louis rubbed his hands together, until he realized the heat between his palms was giving him more nervous energy rather than dispensing it. He took a deep breath and nervously flicked his fringe. 

The door swung open, and Louis had to fight the urge to press up against the wall and hide so he could observe the intruder undetected; a reflex that had been built into him through years of training. He wasn’t here to spy on Harry, though, he was there to talk to him. He clenched his jaw and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Oh,” Harry said coming to a halt after taking a few steps into the loo. “So Liam wasn’t pulling my leg when he said you were here.”

Louis shrugged and smiled-- or tried to, rather, his mouth feeling stiff and awkward. “Needed to talk to you.”

Harry nodded as if this were an obvious statement, “Yeah, that’s what Liam said.” Harry crossed his arms, remaining stood in place. “You know, if you wanted to talk to me it would’ve been easier to just answer my text.”

Fuck, Louis had forgotten about that. “I uh-- I was going to answer.” He pushed at his hair, strands sticking into his eyes. He really was. He bit the inside of his cheek, collecting his thoughts. If there were ever a moment he couldn’t fuck up it was now. “We can talk about that, okay? Or you can just tell me off, I guess, whatever you like.” He was rambling, he knew it.

He took a breath. Harry was still looking at him, his stance a bit looser but his fixed gaze unyielding. “Okay. Go on.” 

Louis continued, “I think Geoff is working for the people that have been threatening your mum.”

Harry’s cheeks hollowed, his frown deepening. “You think?”

“I saw him meeting with the bloke who followed me this morning. It could be a coincidence,” Louis said, watching Harry’s lips curl. “It probably isn’t a coincidence, though.”

“Just to be clear-- you’re being serious? This isn’t some prank?” 

“I’m serious,” Louis said, even though the way Harry’s jaw had gone tight made it clear he didn’t think this was a joke.

The weight of his words hung in the air. 

Harry’s arms dropped to his sides and he stepped back. He braced himself against the sink before curling his fingers into fists. He looked around, as if searching for a place to sit. “We’re really having this conversation next to the urinals, huh?”

Louis shrugged in answer, looking around himself. “We can step into a stall, if you’d rather.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair as he shook his head. He hefted his book bag onto the counter before dropping his shoulders and made eye contact with Louis in the mirror. “Okay. Is there protocol for this? You said preparation was important, you’re ready for this, right?”

Louis bit down on his flattened tongue. Even with the slight tremble in Harry’s voice it was clear that he trusted Louis with this. “We have a few options. We can extricate you and get you to your mum and have her people take things from there.”

“By extricate you mean… leave? The city? Like, now? Just drop everything?”

Louis blinked. They hadn’t thought he’d be this eager to leave but-- “If you want you can leave now, sure. Liam could get you to the airport. You could be home this time tomorrow.”

Harry shook his head. He turned around, leaning his weight against the sinks. He rubbed at his neck. “I’m still in the middle of school. I have lectures, I have papers due.” 

“Well. This is a bit of a special case. I’m sure they would understand.”

Harry didn’t respond to that, instead said, “And then what? Geoff will know he got caught and disappear on the first flight elsewhere. He’s not working alone right?”

“I don’t think he is, no.”

“Great. So I get whisked away, he’s probably ready to run off, but these guys behind the scenes just…get away with it?” Harry made a gesture suggesting they go up in smoke. His mouth twisted as he said, “They can pick back up whenever they want.”

“We were hired to keep you safe,” Louis said, acid filling his throat at the thought that there might be more people at Neon working against that agenda. But that wasn’t certain just yet. “Leaving would keep you safe.”

“Temporarily, right?” It was a pointed question that didn’t require an answer. Harry blew out a breath. “What else? You said a few options, yeah? Do the others involve getting him in handcuffs? Cause I might prefer that option.”

Louis sucked in his cheeks. “The other option is you stick around until we figure out what’s going on, while we collect evidence. If we catch Geoff we can use him to get to whoever is in charge.”

“Bait? You want me to be bait.” Harry’s jaw clenched, sarcasm dripping as he said, “Sounds reasonable.”

“It’s not what _I_ want it’s-- you asked for the options, yeah? This is an option. That would allow us to get to him. I don’t think they want to hurt you-- I-- they could’ve done that already if that was the plan. We’d take every precaution to keep you safe, if you chose to do that. You’d be part of the team, kind of, yeah?”

“What precautions are you talking about?”

“Well you’ll need a new phone, something prepaid. You should do that anyway, actually. Make sure you have a way to contact us if your existing phone is compromised.”

“You think it’s being tracked?”

Louis shrugged. “It might be. But this is about being prepared, yeah? You need to have resources that Geoff doesn’t know about. A phone is the first thing. You still know my number, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, okay so. Have Liam take you to pick one up. So you can get in touch with me if you want out, whenever. I think you should think about it, but you could get a phone in an hour and decide in two that you’re out. Or a day, or a week. There’s no deadline for this decision.”

“Right.”

“If you want to wait it out…” Louis shrugged stiffly, unable to even pretend like this wasn’t a big ask. “Nothing changes. Tell me and we can make sure you know your essentials and contingency plans.”

“Okay,” Harry’s frown deepened. As if he only just realized this was getting real. He was actually in danger, and there was no obvious choice. “What about a meeting place? Should we have that? If all these phones aren’t secure…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis said, nodding along. It was the kind of backup that couldn’t hurt. He had to think for a moment, visualize what the city looked like so he could pick the best spot. “Bathurst and Dundas. There’s a skate park there, and there’s two shops open twenty-four hours and a hospital. It’s easily accessible, and it’s safe.”

“Okay,” Harry said, nodding along. He seemed poised to ask one more question, but he was interrupted by the sound of three knocks echoing into the room.

They’d both forgotten Liam was stood outside, waiting for them to finish up. 

Harry shook his head in an attempt to collect himself, running his fingers through his hair. The rings he wore glinted in the light, emphasizing the slight tremble of Harry’s hands.

“Alright,” Harry said, picking his book bag back up. His expression stiffened, a frown etched on his face. 

“Think about it,” Louis said, his fingers twitching with the desire to pull Harry close and offer him some comfort, as shitty as that timing might be with Liam lingering outside. “We’re doing our absolute best to keep you safe, regardless of what you choose.”

“Thanks,” Harry said stiffly. 

Louis had no idea which way Harry would end up swaying, but he didn’t expect an answer right away. It was a big ask. At least Liam was scheduled to be with him for another week. He’d be in good hands while he tried to make a choice.

 

/

 

Louis remained on edge for the rest of the day. He went back to his rented flat, starfishing on the bed with his clothes still on. For all he knew he might get a call from Liam in ten minutes telling him Harry wanted out. Or the reverse, that he’d chosen to stick it out and that they had to hunker down.

He could’ve gone back to the shared flat and worked with Niall on how to they could untangle the web they were in, but Louis really couldn’t be in the shared flat when Geoff returned. He could control himself enough that he wouldn’t attack Geoff on sight, but he wouldn’t be able to carry a conversation or look him in the eye. And they couldn’t risk raising his suspicions.

Louis texted Niall that everything had gone well and stretched out on the bed.

There wasn’t anything left for him to do but wait. He had already cancelled his flight back home and extended his lease on the rental.

All he could do was wait. Wait for Harry’s decision so he would know how to proceed.

He kept his phone clenched tightly in his fist, and when it vibrated he felt it all the way up his arm.

He held his breath as he brought his phone up, expecting it to be Liam or Harry; it was neither of them. It was just Niall responding to Louis’ text. As Louis pulled down the notification he eyed Harry’s still unread text from the other night. From before everything had changed.

Louis’ finger hovered over it, tempted to answer it now, to apologize for the part Louis had in making Harry’s life a mess.

Louis pressed the power button instead, slipping his phone back into his pocket and getting back up. Niall’s text had suggested he work with Kate to keep their progress away from Geoff. That was something he could do. 

 

/

 

Barely three hours had passed by the time Louis heard from Liam that a burner phone had been acquired and that he’d do his best to give Harry some pointers.

At that point Louis expected to hear from Harry within the next forty-eight hours; whichever way he decided they seemed to be on a roll.

Louis didn’t have much to do but remain alert and ready to spring into action. Liam’s remaining ‘on’ days felt like a countdown. Louis couldn’t bring himself to return to the shared flat, and relied on Niall tracking Geoff’s comings and goings. 

It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t nearly enough to go on, especially while they waited for Harry to make up his mind and tell them how he wanted to proceed.

Louis felt fueled by the low level adrenaline humming under his skin at first, but after a few days it started to feel like he was on a rollercoaster ride going up, up up-- eternally. 

Louis thought maybe Harry was waiting ‘til the last possible minute to make a choice: that being Liam’s last day on. He’d been so certain of it that he’d convinced himself Liam wouldn’t return to the flat alone, but have Harry with him. 

“It’s the perfect way to get ahead. Geoff thinks he’s meeting with them, taking over for Liam, but they’ll be long gone by the time he gets there.”

“So you’ve said,” Niall responded unenthused. His legs kicked up on the coffee table as he watched the monitors. He nodded toward the screens. “But I haven’t seen them leave. Not through the front door, at least.”

Louis clenched his jaw. He could join Niall and follow along, waiting for something to happen. But he couldn’t stand the tension, pacing over the floor. 

What would he do if Harry didn’t return with Liam? Was that a decision in and of itself, since he’d be alone with Geoff? 

And how could they prepare for something when they were walking blindly? 

“I think you need a cuppa,” Niall said. 

Louis slowed his pace and pressed his fingertips against his jaw. Niall was right. He needed a breather. 

He reeled himself in with a cup of tea, pouring one for Niall too before joining him on the sofa. There was nothing unexpected; Geoff was seen arriving at Harry’s loft, and not long after Liam left. He glanced towards the location of the camera before walking out of the frame.

He was leaving all on his own, which meant Harry was alone with Geoff. 

Louis had been wrong. 

“He decided to stay, then?” Louis asked Liam when he returned to the flat. Still trying to make sense of things. That was the only way it would make sense for Harry to stay behind. 

Liam shook his head. He had his own mug of tea, carefully taking sips from it. “He hasn’t decided yet. I think he wants to see for himself.”

“Right,” Louis said, his jaw aching with how tightly he was gritting his teeth. He could feel the weight of Niall’s stare, making his skin prickle. Maybe Harry didn’t trust Louis’ judgment. Could Louis blame him? He’d been distant since getting off Harry’s detail, a knee jerk reaction that was backfiring. 

Fuck.

Louis stayed awake that night. Stiff on the sofa in the shared flat, comforted by the occasional sirens in the distance because they reminded him he wasn’t the only one awake. 

He couldn’t bring himself to leave, even though he was getting uncomfortable and missing his own space. He wanted to be ready if Harry sent out an SOS for them; whatever it might entail. 

The panic over Harry being alone, unsupervised, with Geoff was slowly replaced with anxiety that nothing was happening. There was a tiny inkling of doubt seeping into his pores. Had he misunderstood the situation? Had he triggered an avalanche of unnecessary panic?

His mind continued racing well into the next day, and while he tried to enjoy Niall and Liam’s company his panic must’ve rubbed off.

“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” Liam said the next day, likely sensing Louis’ spiraling thoughts. “He’s got the burner phone, I gave him some tips. Can’t be overprepared, yeah?”

“I just think something should happen, yeah?” Louis muttered.

“Maybe it’s cause you’re still here,” Niall suggested, spooning more noodles onto his plate. Take out, because none of them could be bothered to cook, not anymore.

“What, like Geoff’s scared of me?” Louis frowned, his eyes narrowing. That didn’t make any sense.

“Nah, but if you’re here and something happens he knows you’d get involved, yeah?” Niall shrugged easily, licking sauce off his thumb.

Louis couldn’t even imagine eating right now. He turned away, looking out the window instead. He could just have tea for supper.

“Why don’t we feed him some false information? So he’ll think you’re leaving? S’not like he’ll know since he’s on right now.” Liam’s mouth pulled to the side, his eyes wide. As if it were an innocent suggestion.

At least he still believed in Louis’ judgment, that was something, wasn’t it? 

“A fake going away party?” Niall asked, one eyebrow quirked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Sure,” Liam said, drawing it out. His nodding suggested it wasn’t quite what he had in mind. “Yeah, I can just ask him if he has any messages he wants to pass along to Louis before he goes.”

“And tell him it’s too bad he’s missing the going away party,” Niall said, hammering home his point.

“Niall. You realize I’m not actually going anywhere, right? We don’t need a party.”

“There might be eyes on you, still, mightn’t there?” Niall said with a shrug. Like this was everyday conversation, no big deal. He had a point though.

“Alright, since you’re so eager you figure that out,” Louis told Niall. He got up, shaking his shoulders out. Liam and Niall’s eyes followed him as he pushed his empty plate towards the middle of the table. “I should head back to mine.”

 

/

 

The day of Louis’ fake going away party started like any other. 

Louis’ alarm went off, and he stayed in bed while he checking his phone for important news. There were perfunctory status update emails from Niall, tracking Harry’s leaving and returning to the flat, and Liam telling him that he’d spoken to Geoff about Louis going away. 

Louis hadn’t heard from Harry since he last saw him six days ago, but he was still on edge, waiting for the call that was due to come at some point. Because Harry had two alternatives to choose from, and Louis still had no idea which of them he would pick. The situation wasn’t made better by him starting to doubt his judgment on the entire situation. 

Since Louis wasn’t doing fieldwork anymore at least he could keep the sound on on his phone. He kept it close, prepared to spring into action at the merest hint that Harry’s choice had been made.

He did receive a call when he left the flat; he was rushing, behind schedule, and he pounced on the call immediately. He hadn’t had time to check who was on the line, and Anne’s voice surprised him as it cut through the ambient sounds surrounding him as he crossed the street.

“Louis,” she said first, a heavy breath following, quick and harsh. “Louis, where are you?” 

“I’m on the way to to the office, why?” He asked, the cadence of her speech already intoning that something was wrong, very wrong. 

“Is Harry with you? You won’t get into trouble, I swear.”

Her words sliced through Louis’ spine like a buttered knife. He came to a full stop on the street, getting out of the way from the rest of the pedestrians and dropping his weight against the closest wall. It was a shop window, his shirt slid over the glass, and he righted himself again. 

“No, I’m not active on his detail at this time,” Louis said, his voice foreign to himself. The words were detached from his own mouth, his own brain. He knew that she knew that, and still that felt like the obvious answer. He clutched the phone harder, pressing it as close to his ear as it physically could be, until the shell of his ear grew hot.

It was something to hold onto as Anne carried on, pleading, “Please, Louis. I just want to know he’s safe.”

“Anne. He’s not here.” It was only then that he realized the weight of her questioning him. Harry was gone. Recent enough that he hadn’t even heard about it from Steve, or Niall, or Liam. And Anne thought he might be with Louis. 

Had Harry told her about Louis’ plan? And now she expected him to have the answers--that Harry’s disappearance would be connected to the plan. 

Louis couldn’t think about this now, though, not with Anne making near sobbing noises through the phone.“Anne-- I don’t know where he is,” Louis said, the words burning on the way out, his breaths short and shallow. 

A rustling followed, and Gemma’s steely voice replaced Anne’s.

“Louis.”

The determination that she puts in just saying his name snaps him back to reality. The reason why they called him, specifically, don’t matter right now. What matters now is finding Harry, safe and sound. “We’ll fix it, Gemma. I’ll find him.”

 

/

 

Louis’ heart hammered in his chest, his ears throbbing. Harry was gone.

His brain scrambled for explanations, the most obvious being that he’d been right and Geoff had been a threat. It didn’t feel good to think about, Harry being taken by Geoff or whoever he was working with. And even with the burner Harry couldn’t get in touch with Louis if he was unconscious or it had been found and snatched. 

“Jesus,” Louis muttered to himself. He’d been certain that they didn’t want to actually hurt Harry, but it was hard to hold on to that conclusion and everything that had led up to it when Harry was _missing._

Maybe Harry was just biding his time before getting in touch-- Yeah, that was possible, wasn’t it? 

It was even possible that he hadn’t been taken, but that he’d left. He could have found a way to escape while under Geoff’s watch, wanting out, but forgetting or unable to tell Louis first. Geoff could have panicked, called Anne and overdramatized what had happened to cover his arse, which led to her calling Louis. 

In that case, if Harry had left on his own… he might be waiting for Louis to meet up with him at Alexandra Park.

Louis started walking as soon as the thought hit him. He wasn’t too far away, twenty blocks or so, which was nothing, even as his thighs burned and his pace quickened.

Harry could already be there, sitting next to the skate park and waiting for Louis to catch up and come meet with him. Or he could be on his way, in which case Louis wanted to be there already, waiting.

He could picture their reunion; Louis wouldn’t hesitate to pull Harry in for a hug, and he would give him plenty of shit for making them worry. Harry would have some ridiculous excuse as to why he hadn’t called like they’d agreed. Yeah, it’d be a laugh, going over the terrible misunderstanding that had come about. 

Louis came to a halt at Bathurst, his frenzied pace brought to a stop by a red light. He could see the park from where he was stood, and he could make out a few people by the ice rink.

One of those people could be Harry.

Louis sped up again when the walk signal came on, crossing the street diagonally so he’d get closer to the park. His feet sunk into the snow dusted lawn as he cut through the park. 

He was slowing down, but his heart wasn’t following suit. It was beating furiously in his chest as he gasped for air. He wasn’t out of breath, not really; he was edging into panic. The panic before the calm, he told himself. Whatever it was, he could get through it.

The lights above the ice rink were on, spilling past the ice and onto the tarmac of the skate park. There were two people there, only one skating. Louis’ eyes darted across the edges of the rink. He walked up to it, stepping onto the concrete as he looked for Harry’s form. 

Harry might still be on his way. He might be en route. He wouldn’t run all the way here like Louis did--Louis laughed to himself, on the edge of manic. He could wait. He could wait here for a while, until Harry showed up.

Louis let his weight drop against wall of the ice rink, back hitting it hard. 

It was only then that he allowed himself to think that Harry might not come at all.

Louis checked his phone, scrolled through the missed calls and texts he’d received since answering Anne’s call. There was nothing from Harry. And everything else said the same: Harry was gone, Geoff was in hospital.

Anne had just gotten to Louis first.

Louis mouthed a ‘fuck’ against the back of his hand. He could have thirty seconds to freak out, to have an absolute meltdown. Louis felt a scream bubbling inside his chest, ribs tightening, the air gone. Harry wasn’t here, and he hadn’t heard from him. He might be in actual danger.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He pressed his palms against his eyes until spots of light flashed behind his eyelids. He listened to his breath, the ragged, repetitive sound of air getting slower and slower, evening out.  
Things could still be salvaged. Even if Harry had been grabbed, they knew something like this was coming. He might not have chosen to be bait but… but he was prepared for this scenario, wasn’t he? He’d been trained by Liam. He had his burner phone. If Harry could, he’d get in touch with Louis as soon as possible. 

Things would be fine.

Louis could handle this. This was what he was trained for. He just usually wasn’t so emotionally invested.

The world took on a new vibrancy as he gathered himself. The cold was making his bare hands prickle even as he curled his fingers. He’d had his moment to freak out, now he needed to step into action. 

He would walk up to the intersection and the trifecta of twenty-four hour shops. He could talk to the staff, and ask them to keep an eye out for Harry just in case he got there later. In case he managed to get away and came here.

That was the first course of action.

The second was Louis getting himself to Mount Sinai where Geoff was being treated.

Louis had to blink when he stepped into the hospital; the lights too bright for Louis’ liking. It was fairly easy to find Niall and Liam; they’d set up camp in one of the waiting rooms. 

They looked out of place; drawn faces against the pastel backdrop of the walls. Liam was on his phone, but he looked up at Louis in acknowledgment when he walked in. His mouth remained tight, but it pulled slightly to the side. A feeble greeting. Niall had his laptop in front of him, feet up against the coffee table. He did a double take when he saw Louis, a flash of surprise on his face even though he knew Louis was coming.

“Hey,” Louis said. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. He felt a bit out of breath, the earlier panic catching up with him. “Anything new?”

“No. Geoff’s not in intensive care anymore, he’s just being kept for observation for now.”

“What did he say happened?”

Liam got off his phone but kept his eyes trained away from Louis as he answered, “He said Harry got yanked when they were going to the shop. He went in pursuit and got a car door to the chest, hit his head when he fell.”

“When?”

“Six hours ago.” 

Louis nodded along, trying to absorb the information, and how it fit into everything they knew. “No details on who they were?”

“He said they were masked, unrecognizable. Awfully convenient, isn’t it?” Niall said with a hint of disdain. “But I guess something happened, huh?”

Louis’ stomach twisted at that comment; he remembered saying that. But this was too real. 

Niall cleared his throat before saying, “Steve wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I figured. When is he-- He’s coming right?” Louis had only just taken a seat, the metal frame of the chair squeaking as he shifted his weight.

“Think so,” Niall’s mouth had gone tight, like he wanted to say something else. “His flight is tonight, I think. Anne and Gemma are already on their way.”

“Right, makes sense, yeah,” Louis said. 

The silence that followed felt unnatural; like Liam and Niall were waiting for him to do or say something. “What?” 

“Steve,” Niall said, as if it were the most obvious thing.

“He wants to talk to me _now_?”

Niall nodded without looking at Louis, having returned to typing away on his computer. “There’s a privacy booth just to the left of reception.”

 

/

 

When Louis got Steve on the line, he didn’t mince words, immediately asking, “When were you going to tell me you were personally involved with Styles?” 

Louis’ tongue felt thick, mouth dry. He knew that this would happen, this wasn’t a time to keep secrets. Anne would’ve told Steve. It didn’t matter _how_ he’d found out. Louis would take all the lashings for his breaking protocol, but-- But before that he had to be allowed to participate in the rescue mission. 

“We were very discreet. It wasn’t--” Louis shook his head. “It was never serious.” His chest ached at the lie he told; it had become serious for him, at least. But revealing that might hurt his chances to keep working on the case.

And Louis _needed_ to find Harry.

“That’s not why they knew to follow you?” Steve asked, the challenge in his voice clear. “Because they knew you two were tight?”

Louis’ skin heated, he and Harry had never been affectionate in public, aside from on various dance floors, and none of that would stand out. But he’d wanted it. And if Harry had tried--had pulled him in close by the lapels-- Louis wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stop himself. But they hadn’t. 

“No. And I’ve never-- I always put his safety first. He liked to challenge me but I never-- I never backed down.”

Steve went quiet, and Louis swallowed, trying to remain calm. “Sir, I want to help. More than just-- sharing what I know, I mean that’s a given, I would do that anyway, but. But I want to be on the team. I need to be.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Steve said. His voice was distant, as if he’d pulled the phone away from his mouth. “But Anne wants you on it, so I guess you are.”

“I am? I am on the team,” he repeated it, disbelief at getting what he wanted. He looked up at the wall where there was a poster for a charity marathon, trying to ground himself so he could make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“Seems that way,” Steve said with a note of finality. 

It wasn’t exactly a warm welcome, but it was all Louis needed. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Find him,” Steve closed with before hanging up.

 

/

 

Liam and Niall were silent when Louis joined them again. But Louis knew that they were being awkward because they’d found out as well. Probably the whole London office knew that Tommo’d gotten with a principal. He bit the inside of his lip.

“Just get it out, please, and we can move on,” Louis said, trying to remain neutral, even as his lips curled in on themselves. Might as well rip the band aid off.

Niall sniffed and shrugged in Liam’s direction.

“Did everyone know about this?” Liam asked, his brows furrowed. It seemed aimed at Niall and Louis both, and they both shook their heads. 

The timing really wasn’t ideal, Louis answering questions about his and Harry’s relationship when they were supposed to be looking for him. But he couldn’t blame Liam for asking. “No, it wasn’t-- it wasn’t serious.”

Niall snorted, a brash ‘ha!’ squeezing out of his chest. Liam’s expression remained confused as he looked at Niall. 

Louis didn’t speak but he gave Niall a stern look. 

“What?” Niall asked, as if he were confused with the sudden attention he was getting.

“You knew?” Liam’s voice had an edge of hysteria to it, now.

Niall’s face got all twisted up, and he shrugged. “Nah, but I’m not surprised. I’m just laughing at it not being serious. Knew Tommo had a hard on for him for sure.”

“Huh.” Liam was twisting his hands now. “How did I miss this…” He muttered, mostly to himself.

“You never saw ‘em together.” Niall shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

There was a nagging in Louis’ gut that was making him feel bad for Liam’s confusion. 

“Are you alright with doing this, then?” Liam asked. “Looking for him? It must be--” he shook his head, eyebrows arched high. “--must be really hard for you.”

“Yeah. We worked with him-- obviously so. I know he’s prepared. And I know how to handle him, right?” Louis scoffed at himself, his lightheartedness ringing false all sudden. Time to change the subject. “Right, well. Unless there’s more questions about this--can we? Can we get to work?” 

Liam nodded, leaning forward where he sat. “Harry got a phone, so when he turns that on we’ll be able to track him.” 

Louis nodded. He was biting the inside of his cheek. “Assuming there’s service. Assuming he has it and it hasn’t been compromised.” He didn’t want to sound pessimistic but it felt important to acknowledge that they might not be prepared at all. 

“I’m sure he’s fine. He got the best to train him.” Niall’s voice was pinched, his face serious. 

“No, we’re not sure of anything, Niall. I know you’re trying to make things easier for me but-- Please don’t. We need to be objective. We need to plan for all contingencies. That’s the only way things will work out.” 

Niall leaned back against his chair, head tipped back against the wall. “Okay. Well.” He paused. “The phone could have been grabbed, turned off and tossed. But I really don’t think so. I think that would’ve been a surprise to them, Harry having his regular phone and a burner. I don’t think Geoff would be in that hospital room happily taking morphine if anything suspicious happened.”

“Right,” Louis said, even as he heard Liam muttering his agreement, as well. 

“If he’s on the move at all, he’d have to end up _somewhere_ where there’s reception. Unless you convinced him to go for a shit provider cause it was cheaper.” This accusation was addressed towards Liam, who shielded his chest with his hand. 

“No--oh, no, we went for the best.”

“Good. 

Louis paced. He needed to sleep, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to take sleeping pills even less. “Something might happen.”

“And then you’d be dealing with it while sleep deprived.”

Niall shrugged. 

“Is there a possibility this has nothing to do with him?” Liam asked.

There was a ‘no’ on the edge of Louis’ tongue, but it was instinct answering, not fact. 

“No.” Niall said, shaking his head. His certainty was a balm to Louis’ concerns “His injuries-- they could easily have been self inflicted. And a lot of it is self-reported. He says he hit his head, and they don’t mess around with those, but it’s an easy way for him to claim he doesn’t remember anything.”

“Okay, I just thought-- you know. Had to ask,” Liam said, mouth twisting. Niall clapped him on the shoulder as a show of support. 

“Of course.” Louis tightened his fingers around his pen, digging his nails into his palm. Of course it was a question worth asking. But he was having a reaction to it. Louis knew Harry’s disappearance had to do with Geoff. Not just because of how things went down according to him, but because he’s got Harry off the radar, somehow. He’d know how to do that. This wasn’t Louis overreacting.

“I really appreciate your support, lads,” Louis said, trying to stay formal even as the words were choked out. 

Niall approached him, and held out his fist for a bump before wrapping his arms around him. “No problem, Tommo.”

 

/

 

The ransom request arrived via email.

It came just after Geoff was discharged. He’d been under constant watch since he’d been admitted and even now that he was installed in his room at the shared he’d not been anywhere near a phone or computer. 

It wasn’t a nick in Louis’ theory-- he knew there were other people involved, with more access-- but it chafed at him that Geoff couldn’t have sent the email. 

Anne and Gemma had just arrived, barely had time to check into their hotel before Anne called Louis in a panic. Liam stayed put to keep an eye on Geoff, while Niall and Louis met up with Anne and Gemma.

Anne was still wearing her travel clothes, a thick scarf draped over her shoulders even in the warm hotel room. 

Five million in US dollars. That was the ransom request that was sent to Anne, via email. 

Anne’s reaction was predictably panicked, fingers trembling as she spoke, “I don’t have that kind of money. They haven’t even said anything about how they want it. Is that normal?” 

Louis pulled at his top lip with his teeth, said, “Normal isn’t really part of the equation.”

Anne nodded as if this made perfect sense. Her arms around herself in a hug. “Right.”

Niall had set up a tech corner with his laptop and Anne’s tablet where she’d first seen the email. Harry was listed as the sender, a surefire way to catch Anne’s attention even after a long trip. 

“I’m guessing the email can’t be traced?” Louis asked Niall, and Niall’s mouth drew tight as he shook his head. That it was an email at all rather than a phone call, and timed so perfectly with their arrival-- that meant something, though. Louis knew it did. 

As did the fact that they’d asked for five million in US dollars. 

“If it were pounds it might work,” Gemma muttered, almost to herself. “Most of the money is tied up in the company but it’d be easier.... Stocks and the like. Robin gave away most of the liquidated cash.”

Anne was nodding along to what Gemma was saying, but it was clear from her blank stare that she wasn’t actually listening. Louis couldn’t fault her in the slightest. 

“Louis,” Niall said, voice was sharper, capturing Louis’ attention immediately. Niall tipped his head towards the door and got up, his phone clutched in his hand. 

Louis stood up, pressing his palms against his thighs, trying to pace himself. “Excuse me,” he said, even though no one was paying attention to him, Gemma still speaking to herself and Anne robotically humming her assent to everything. 

Louis allowed Niall to step into the hallway first, a lump like a fist in his chest as he followed. 

“We have a location,” Niall said, pushing his phone towards Louis as soon as the door clicked shut.

“Just now?” Louis looked at it, a string of numbers that represented a coordinate. He swallowed, his mouth no longer dry. That’s where Harry was. Or at the very least, where his burner phone was. 

“He must’ve turned his phone on,” Niall said, a tentative smile tugging at his lips. 

“Is it moving?”

Niall shook his head, the smile firmer now. “Static.”

With his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth, Louis tried to keep his pulse in check. “This is good. Really, really good.”

“Yeah, it is. It might not--” 

“It might not be him, I know,” Louis interrupted. He took a deep breath. “I know that.”

“But it’s progress,” Niall said as he nodded along.

“Yeah,” Louis said, blowing out a breath. “How long will it take to get there?”

“A couple of hours by car.”

“Great,” Louis said, eager to get going. “Keep an eye on the location.” His fingers twitched even as he said it; he knew Niall would keep tabs but the impulse was uncontrollable. Louis needed to make sure they were on top of everything. 

He nervously tucked his fringe out of his face before opening the door to Anne’s hotel room.

“I can hedge it from the company,” Anne said. They’d moved away from panic and into problem solving. 

“Who do we talk to for that?” Gemma asked. She was poised with her pen and paper. Her hair up in a rushed ponytail, shoulders just as tense as Anne’s.

The cogs started to turn in Louis’ head as Anne started listing names, 

“Anne.” 

Both she and Gemma stopped what they were doing, turning to the doorway where Louis and Niall stood.

“Niall?” Louis prompted, lungs fit to burst with how much he wanted to spill the beans himself. 

“We’ve got a lead on Harry’s location.”

Anne dropped into her seat, hand reaching towards her mouth. 

“That’s good, right?”

Louis nodded. “It’s very good, yes.”

“Do we--” Anne shook her head, her fingers still trembling. “When can we go get him? Do we,”--she turned to Gemma--“what do _we_ do?”

“Yes, do we still get the money together? How, uh, how good is this lead?”

“Anne, you said you could take the money from the company?”

“The US division, yes. There would have to be a lot of convincing to do, but it would work. We’d be able to pay it back, it would just… take time.” She hesitated, lingering on her words. 

“What would happen if you took the money from the company?” Louis asked.

“I’d probably have to step down but-- It’s a small price to pay for my son’s safety,” Anne said. Her eyebrows knitted together. “I’ll do it if it’ll help. ”

“Does someone _want_ you to step down?”

“What?” Anne said, just as Gemma spoke, “Are you saying it’s someone from the company?”

Louis bit his lip, the back of his throat itching. He was thinking about the pushy American, Turner, from the gala. His interest in Harry--his casual judgment thrown at Louis. 

But it wasn’t his place to put ideas in Anne’s head. If Turner was involved, there would be more clues that they’d have noticed. He asked, “Who would know that you wouldn’t have access to that kind of money? Who would be able to get into Gemma’s flat? If the end result of this ordeal is you stepping away from Twist, someone must want that to happen. Who wants you away from the company?” Louis pressed his finger onto the table. “That’s who’s behind this.”

Gemma and Anne looked at each other for a moment. Gemma ripped the page she’d started writing on and dropped it to the floor. “So we’re making a different list, then,” she said.

“One with the names of anyone with that kind of access and that potential motive,” Niall said. “I’ll be able to look them all up.”

 

/

 

“I don’t know if you should have told them that--” Niall started. His lips rolled into his mouth as he shook his head.

“I think they deserved to know. I promised to find him. I’ll deal with the fallout if it comes to it. I’m only here cause she wants me to find him. I promised to do that.”

“Okay,” Niall said, his grip on the counter loosening.

They’d left Anne and Gemma to regroup, and prep Louis for the trip. It mostly consisted of making sure his phone was charged and finding a car. Kate’s had been offered, but it came with strings--

“Kate will go with you.”

“Right.” Louis clenched his teeth as soon as he’d said it. There wasn’t any point in fighting it, but his gut reaction was still reluctance. 

“You need backup. You know that. And she’s the only one we can spare right now. Can’t have Geoff getting suspicious,” Liam said, the corners of his eyes tense with worry. He’d wanted to come, too.

“I get it. I do. I just don’t like it.” 

 

/

 

Louis didn’t even get to drive the car. He’d wanted to, but Kate insisted on him staying away from the wheel. “You’ll want to check for updates and you can just stay plugged in.”

She was right, of course. Even though the location of Harry’s phone had remained static, they hadn’t heard directly from him. Which meant he likely couldn’t but-- but Louis wanted to be available just in case. He wanted to watch the location marker if it would move.

“You just don’t trust me to stay on the right side of the road,” he said, even as his chest felt tight. 

Kate just laughed at him, “I do have more experience driving on the wrong side of the road.”

Louis’ biggest frustration was that they had to go slower than he wanted. The roads weren’t entirely safe and dry; thick snowflakes starting to come down when they left the city.

The heat was on full blast in the car, and Louis had put the radio on. He didn’t even care about the music, didn’t care about the growing amount of static that normally would’ve hurt his ears. He just needed a constant blanket of sound to keep him grounded. 

“McD’s or Tim’s?” Kate asked, just as she started pulling into a rest stop. 

“I’m not hungry.” He just wanted to keep going. They were close now, it wasn’t the time to take a break.

“You don’t think Harry’s going to be hungry?” She scoffed. She picked a drive-thru, 

His breath got stuck in his throat, words, “We don’t know that he’s going to be there. Might be just the phone in a ditch.”

“Don’t you want to be prepared if he is there?” She cocked her head to the side. “I’m counting on you knowing what Harry’s order is.”

 

/

 

They knew from the location that Harry--or his phone, at least--was in cottage country. But turning off from a back road onto an unpaved dirt road with a handmade street sign made it feel more real. 

They were inching closer, and it seemed all the more likely that Harry was in one of these houses. Kate slowed her speed when the road narrowed. 

Louis could feel his heartbeat in his throat when they encountered a car coming towards them they had to pull up on the shoulder of the road. The other car did the same and they nearly grazed each other as it passed. The other driver waved and Louis checked to make sure he drove off before asking Kate to start up again. 

The brief break at least had allowed Louis to take a deep breath. 

When they approached a fence Louis asked Kate to stop the car.

It was with a rabbiting heart that Louis got out. He opened it wide enough for Kate to drive through, but he didn’t jump back in.

“I’m gonna--” Louis started, pointing towards the house. He couldn’t bear waiting any longer. Despite the snow coming down and the way his boots sank into it, he took long steps. Closer and closer until he could see the roof of the house, and then the front. There was smoke coming out of the chimney. 

The sky was was washed out, looking as if it pressed against the earth. Time felt slippery.

Louis could hear Kate driving up behind him, but he was blind to everything but the lit up windows and the front door. Harry was inside. He had to be. There could be no other reason for the lights to be on.

There was an untouched carpet of snow leading to the house. No car tracks and no footprints indicating that anyone had come or gone.

With his heart hammering in his chest, his ribs aching with every beat, he took slow measured steps. He was going to leave a trace. Hopefully that wouldn’t matter in the long run.  
It felt like a parody of real life, these careful steps up the stairs, the snow that clouded the air adding softness to the moment. He didn’t think as he knocked at the door, the sound ringing out hollow past the wood. 

There was movement, the click of the lock, the turning of the knob--

And Harry stood in front of Louis, in one piece, his hair a mess atop his head, as if he’d spent days scratching at his scalp without brushing his hair again.

Harry stood so still, Louis was hit with the possibility that he was imagining things. What if Harry wasn’t actually standing there? He was going to speak, but Harry beat him to it--

“Hi,” Harry said, which was the only thing that brought Louis back into reality. He shuffled back a little bit. He was here, he was alright. Louis wanted to buckle to his knees. He wanted to make sure Harry didn’t have a single scratch on him. Harry’s voice cracked as he said, “You’re here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis said, the only thing that would come out. He wanted to say more-- he wanted to cradle Harry against his chest. But he also knew now wasn’t the time. Somehow his training was taking over in this instance.

“Fuck,” Harry said, his hands shaking as he brought them up to his face. He shook his head. “I didn’t know if it was going to work-- The phone wasn’t charged and there’s no reception here and I-- I found a phone in one of the closets and I plugged it in the wall but it didn’t work. But there was a charger and that worked…” 

“Are you alright?” Louis asked, nearly ready to cry at the way Harry rambled in his own way. His voice still slower than expected but each disjointed thought voiced.

“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice crumpling. He reached for Louis, and Louis gave in, stepping into Harry’s spread arms and hugging him close. They both held on tightly, Louis arms going stiff before he let go. There was still work to be done.

“There’s no one else here, right?” 

“No, no one’s been either. Geoff said-- He said we were going to a safe house. He’d come back in a few days.”

“Tomorrow, probably," Louis mumbled to himself. It would be the soonest Geoff could get away. They'd have to ease up on him and give him a chance to discover Harry had gone missing. Addressing Harry, Louis asked, “He said it was a safe house? How did you know that it wasn’t?” Louis stepped farther into the house. It looked uninhabited. It wasn’t set up like a safe house, but he could see how it could pass as one. Remote, no cellphone reception. The perfect hideaway. It would probably have worked. 

“He had a gun.” Harry was quick to add, “He didn’t use it-- I just saw it. And you know I hate guns. There’s no way that you’d have allowed him to carry a gun around me.”

That was unexpected, and Louis’ breath caught briefly. He didn’t want to let anything on, just wanted to get out. “Clever. You have all your things?”

“Yeah.” Harry turned around, moving into the space. “Just need my phone, right?” Harry said, pulling at it from his pocket. 

“Is there anything in here Geoff touched?” Louis asked, the pertinent questions digging at him. 

Harry looked around. “That glass of water,” he said, waving towards the sink. “Haven’t washed it.”

Louis nodded and took out his phone to photograph it. He used an abandoned plastic bag followed it up with turning a plastic bag inside out and grabbing the glass through itf. “Anything else?” He asked.

Harry took the question seriously and he wandered through the rest of the house. It was too big for one person, too open and unsecured to be a safe house. And still, the conclusion Louis had come to earlier still stood. Geoff would’ve gotten away with it. And Harry would’ve probably believed Geoff if he hadn’t been warned and prepared. It was a clever, clever plan.

At least Louis had been right that the goal was never to hurt any of them.

 

/

 

“This is Kate, she’s been helping us out,” Louis explained as Harry got into the car. 

“Hiya.” She beamed, and handed the Tim’s bag and box of Timbits to Harry as he settled in the backseat. “We thought you might be hungry.”

Harry gladly took them off her hands, digging into the bag. Louis had gotten him the bacon wrap he’d had for breakfast before, and Harry picked it up eagerly. “Thank you.”

Louis had followed him into the backseat. He wanted to be close to him, irrational as it was, it didn’t matter. He would indulge himself now because he’d succeeded. 

He notified Niall and Liam that everything had gone well via text, and he didn’t have to think about anything else. Louis watched as Harry ate, and declined any of the food that Harry offered him. 

Louis’ chest, his jaw, his throat; they all felt tight. But beyond that there was a void inside of him. His pulse having slowed to a crawl. He barely registered the drive to the city. Kate had turned off the radio, and the landscape whizzing by was hypnotizing, Harry’s weight and breath close to Louis acting as a powerful anesthetic. He allowed himself to relax, eyes closed and sharpening his other senses. With Harry safe next to him nothing much could distract him.

Louis only regained full control of his limbs when Kate parked the car outside Louis’ rental flat. It was determined the safest place to keep him until they’d officially apprehended Geoff and whoever he was working with. They couldn’t let on that Harry had been found.

Louis fell into his old habits, exiting the car first and walking around to Harry’s side to wait for him. It wasn’t really necessary right now, but it was what kept him standing. This routine was the one thing that kept him from cracking and clinging to Harry until he could really absorb that he was here, in one piece.

“This is my uh, my flat,” Louis told Harry when they stepped foot inside. Harry looked around the small space with curiosity, as if looking for clues as to information on Louis. 

“Nice place.” Harry placed a hand on his hip as he studied the walls of the flat. It wasn’t, really. One room. A bookshelf with old textbooks and nonfiction, a closet with mirrored doors facing the bed, making the space look a little bit bigger.

“It’s not-- most of this stuff isn’t mine. S’just a short term rental,” Louis said, words tumbling out of his mouth. He didn’t know if Harry was judging the decor or just trying to get settled, but he didn’t want it to speak for him.

Harry dropped his phone on the counter. “D’you think I can get my real phone back? He took it ‘cause he said it might be compromised.” Harry smirked as he said it, the irony not lost on him.

Louis scratched his jaw. Unless it’d been destroyed, Geoff should still have it. “We’ll do our best.”

“So is this a real safe house then?” Harry said, trying to lighten the mood. He picked at the books on the bookshelf. From what Louis had seen none looked very interesting, but Harry was interested. He then proceeded to sit on the bed. The only bed in the space.

Louis obliged him with a smile. He was safe for now, that was really all that mattered. “Kind of, I guess. You still can’t leave.” Louis wrinkled his nose in apology. 

Harry just nodded. “Figures.”

“You can call your mum if you want.”

Harry’s face brightened at that. “Really?” 

“Niall’s done all the checks in here, and on my phone. You can call. It’s not being tracked.” Louis offered Harry his phone, staring at his lashes as he blinked. 

Harry took the phone carefully, his other hand making a fist in the sheets. He pressed to call the contact that Louis had brought up.

There wasn’t much room for privacy in this space, but it felt like Harry deserved to have this moment for himself. So Louis checked that his door was locked -- again-- and grabbed a towel before going to the washroom. 

Anne would probably want to talk to Harry for a while, and she’d likely put Gemma on as well. With all that spare time Louis might as well shower. Rub the stress out of his skin, dig it out of his pores.

He placed his clothes into the hamper; all too aware that Harry would be using this space as well and he shouldn’t leave his crap around. How was he supposed to survive that?

Louis focused on how loud the rush of the water was. The pressure wasn’t amazing, but the building was old and the pipes whined from time to time. He let the sound of it fill his ears, eliminate any trace of Harry’s voice from the other room. 

Louis took his time, fingers starting to prune and water going chilly. He dried himself off and picked at another shirt. Putting it back on himself -- it was rumpled, and not entirely clean, but it was better than surprising Harry half naked. 

His towel was tied securely around his waist, and he gulped a breath before walking into the main space. 

Harry was flipping through one of the books he’d grabbed from the shelves, still on the bed, still with his back pressed against the wall. Like he belonged there. “So, what’s next?” Harry asked.

“I’ve got a meeting tomorrow, we’re going to figure out what the best course of action is.”

Harry blinked at him, as if expecting more. Louis tightened his shoulders before continuing. “We have enough to book Geoff, your word alone is enough for that…”

“But?”

“But he didn’t do this on his own. He doesn’t have the resources, and he wouldn’t have had access to Gemma’s. He wasn’t around then.”

Harry’s lips parted ever so slightly, realization dawning. “Do you have any leads?”

“They’ve been working on it while I got you. And we’re going to go over everything tomorrow.”

”But you have a guess, don’t you?” Harry asked, far too certain of himself.

Louis licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry. "Turner? The bloke who kept pestering you? He seemed cozy with Geoff and--"

Harry winced, shook his head. “I can see that actually. Stubborn arse, he is. He doesn't need money though. That’s what doesn’t make sense.” 

“I don’t think they care about the money. Just about getting your mum out of the business. Five mil is probably pocket change compared to controlling the company.”

“Well. I’m glad I never took him up on any employment offers.” Harry paused, said, “Another day alone tomorrow, then. Guess I’ll have to entertain myself,” Harry said dramatically.

“Well, I’m still going to be here…” Louis started. He’d thought it would be evident to Harry that Louis wouldn’t be leaving since it was his flat. That they couldn’t disrupt any routines. But perhaps it hadn’t. 

“But no visitors, right?”

Louis shook his head, mouth pinched. “Not yet, at least. I’ll fill you in on everything tomorrow, I promise.” After the kind of deception going on Louis never wanted Harry to doubt his intentions. He was going to be as transparent as possible.

Harry nodded as if he understood, even as he was sat on the bed. He shuffled closer to the edge and leaned on his knees. He blinked as he looked up at Louis, skin still dewy. 

“Can we say hi properly, now?” He asked.

Louis blinked. “I-- You--”

Harry got up then, made it to his feet swiftly and took the few steps towards Louis. He wrapped his arms around him. “I’m happy to see you,” Harry said, words rushed but sincere.

“Me too,” Louis said. It’d been exactly what he wanted to say. He only just felt that things were back to normal, his chest humming with every breath he took. Harry’s clean crisp scent overwhelming him. 

Harry’s arms were tight around him, and he’d burrowed his face against the crook of Louis’ neck. It sounded like he muttered, “Thank you,” deep into Louis’ skin before standing to his full height again. It allowed Louis to close his eyes and give into to it; loosen the leash he’d been on. His chest heaved, the fabric of Harry’s fresh shirt was damp under Louis’ cheek. Whether from him or from Harry’s shower; he couldn’t tell.

He didn’t care.

Neither, it seemed, did Harry. 

No matter what was coming next, Harry was safe now. He was under Louis’ watch, and he was going to do everything in his power to keep him safe. 

 

/

 

Louis’ alarm went off early and he scrambled to silence his phone. He might not be able to sleep in but that didn’t mean Harry had to get up as well. They’d shared his bed--the only bed in the place, and while it was cramped, it had been the best sleep Louis had in weeks.

Harry’s eyes were open as he squinted in Louis’ direction, but he pulled the covers back over himself instead of getting up. 

“Sorry,” Louis whispered, and Harry grumbled under the sheets. That was fine, he could sleep in. He knew the rules, and he knew better than to go off script for now.

Louis didn’t have breakfast or coffee, just left a note for Harry telling him when he’d be back before he headed straight out to the hotel that had become their command centre now that Steve had arrived. 

He was still riding high on the relief of having recovered Harry safely that it didn’t much matter that he was taking a backseat with Steve back in the picture. 

He’d been asked specifically to find Harry and he had. He could’ve asked to step back and there was no doubt in his mind that Steve, at least would appreciate it. 

But he still wanted to remain in the know, even if he was left out of the eventual wrap up of the case. If nothing else, this way he could keep Harry better informed on what was going on. 

And today he was expected to provide a full briefing on Harry’s rescue. The first brief of the day, and it was the first time he’d ever felt nervous presenting a report. And it might be the last one he’d get to give.

He took a deep breath, and allowed himself a second to look at everyone present. When he paused on Niall he mimed a kiss and gave Louis a thumbs up.

That was all it took to get Louis going. 

The rest of the day was productive as they looked into Louis theory. There were some leads, but the plan was still to pretend Harry was missing and wait for Geoff to slip up. Anything they had couldn’t be proved without Geoff’s cooperation, and that’s what they needed now.

 

/

 

Louis could smell cooking as soon as he opened the door to his flat. He could see that Harry was at the hob, and there were piles of food around him, but it didn’t compute. He didn’t have this amount of food at home.

“Oh, hey,” Harry greeted him, still at work on something at the hob. Stepping closer Louis could see there were noodles that he tossed into a bowl. 

“Where did all of this come from?” Louis tried to remain casual as he asked. There was a bowl of fruit in front of the telly. A peek into his fridge revealed that it was packed full. Surely Harry hadn’t disobeyed orders and gone out shopping? 

“I placed a Walmart order. They do grocery deliveries. No need to step outside.” Harry’s eyebrows were raised as he studied Louis’ face. The concern was still legible and Harry’s mouth twitched in response. “Don’t worry, I used your name. Made you an account and everything. No one knows it was for me. Didn’t even open the door to the delivery guy.” Harry winked. 

This was better, although it still made Louis frown. He had yet to get out of his winter jacket and boots. The food smelled delicious, and Harry looked at home as cooked. 

After hanging up his jacket he scratched the back of his neck, pulling at his sweater to make it more comfortable. Harry had even set plates out. So far Louis had spent his days in this flat eating take out and ready salads. A single bowl the only dish he needed to use for breakfast and desserts.

Harry noticed Louis looking at the dishes, misinterpreting Louis’ silence and his open mouth. “Did you eat already? I just assumed you’d come back and keep me company.”

“No, I’m definitely hungry.” Louis stomach rumbled as if on cue. Harry’s mouth revealed a tight smile.

“You know I figured, I missed regular food, you know. Getting to actually do something. It’s not like the fake safe house gave me much to work with.”

Of course. The cottage had been nice, and would likely have been a great location for a romantic weekend getaway, but that's not why Harry'd been there. Geoff had hardly asked for grocery lists from him when he stocked the cupboards and fridge with microwavable dinners. No wonder it took awhile for him to spring into action. He’d had to secure a location and stock it up like a safe house, enough so that Harry wouldn’t get suspicious.

“So what did you make?” Louis asked, trying to keep his tone light. He noticed then that Harry had changed into another one of Louis’ shirts, and a pair of his sweats. It made sense. The clothes on Harry’s back were the only thing he’d brought with him. 

Harry was moving the noodles into a bowl and “Stir fry,” he announced as he mixed everything together. “And there’s some dessert, too,” he said with a wink.

They took their seats on the sofa. Louis was tempted to turn on the telly, stream something from Netflix, anything to keep things from feeling so domestic. But he didn’t want Harry to think he was avoiding talking to him. It wasn’t that he was-- he just didn’t want to get too comfortable with this.

“So,” Louis started, hesitant, “how was your day?”

Harry shrugged. “Did some reading. Stared longingly out the window, wishing I could go outside,” he said with a teasing tone. “I used some of your face mask, it was alright.”

“My face mask?” He didn’t have any face masks. Harry must’ve found something on the vanity and put it to use. Well, if it was left behind by the person doing the letting they couldn’t be that attached to it, could they? 

“Yeah, the charcoal one.”

Louis shook his head. The pieces of chicken were tender, working with the crunch of the peppers. “That’s not mine.”

“Are you saying you have a problem with face masks?”

“Definitely not, just-- I haven’t exactly had time to indulge, if you will.”

Harry shook his head at that, said, “Well, it’s self care and all that. You should get on it.”

“Okay,” Louis said, mouth twitching. If he wanted to not feel domestic, he was failing big time. 

“Are you gonna give me any updates on what’s going on?” Harry asked after a while.

Louis wasn’t sure how much he should share. Harry had been in the know by quite a lot since the start, but that was because he needed to be. Now that he was safe there wasn’t any need to stress him out. Then again-- not knowing might make things worse for him.

“We’re going to see how Geoff reacts to you being gone from his fake safe house. Hopefully he’ll slip up, and we can find out more about who is behind everything.”

“Interesting.”

“I was wondering can you bring back some of my things? Like, some clothes maybe.”

Louis chewed as he thought, jaw clenching as he nodded. They could probably figure something out. Niall could drop things off; it’s not like his movements were tracked, nor did Geoff have access to Harry’s flat now that he was considered missing.

“Cool.” Harry smiled tightly. “Some of my school work would be good too, since I won’t have much to do in here might as well get some work done.”

It eased something in Louis’ belly, knowing that Harry was finding ways to keep himself occupied. Despite what he’d been through he didn’t seem traumatized.

“How are you doing, by the way? Do you--” he paused. He would offer his ear to Harry, but he didn’t want him to feel obliged to share. His eyebrows were pinched as he continued, “If you want to talk about what happened--

Harry blew a breath out. “It’s been kind of a whirlwind, you know?”

“Yeah.” That was a massive understatement.

Harry shrugged, fork poking at his plate. He spooned some noodles onto the tines only to drop the food again and pile it back on. “I don’t know. Nothing really feels real, still. It might sink in later.”

“But if you get anxious, or have nightmares-- We have resources for that. Don’t hesitate to ask,” Louis insisted. He didn’t want Harry to pretend to be doing better than he was.

“Right. I really think I’ll be fine for now. I think you were right when you said it was good to be prepared. I think just knowing what the plan was. That made things a lot better. I had my secret phone and everything.”

“Good, good,” Louis said, it was the only thing he could think of. He felt slightly unmoored; the two of them felt on more equal footing now, nothing was off limits anymore and they had to figure out a way to establish a new normal. 

“So,” Harry shoveled food in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “What’s the plan going forward?” 

“We’re going to pretend like we still don’t know anything and see if he snaps.”

“Does he know that I’m gone yet?” Harry asked. He frowned. “Or back, I guess, technically. But gone from where he thinks I am.”

Louis shook his head. “I don’t think so. He was around all day. He seemed a bit jumpy but there’s no way he had the chance to drive out and check the cottage yet. Liam is still insisting on bedrest even though the doctors haven’t said anything about that.”

“He really hurt himself enough to be hospitalized?” 

Louis grimaced. “It really wasn’t that bad. But he’d said he hit his head and those are always taken seriously. That bought him a lot of time.”

Harry’s mouth thinned, lips a stern line. “Right. He’ll probably drive up tonight. He said he’d be back in a few days.”

“Okay,” Louis said, remembering that Harry had mentioned this already. The stress of it all eating away at his brain. “Let’s hope he cracks when he realizes you’re not there.”

 

/

 

When they went to bed, no more than a few minutes passed before Harry reached out to gather Louis in his arms. It was intimate, it was unusual, and Louis allowed it to happen, surrendering to Harry’s touch.

It felt good to succumb to it, as fucked up as their situation was. He didn’t think that Harry was going stir crazy and just horny, it was too soon for that. They’d fallen asleep in each other's’ arms the previous night. But it had felt so domestic, tonight. Harry in a loose shirt and humming as they did the dishes together. Tea ready for Louis after he stepped out of the shower.

It was like he belonged in the flat with Louis. In the same bed as him. 

Louis expected, looked forward to another night of being wrapped up in harry’s arms, but tonight he was different.

Tonight Harry trailed his fingertips along Louis’ skin. His eyes followed the route he mapped with his fingers, as if his touch burned a traces into Louis’ skin and he was memorizing every piece of it. 

Louis’ stomach grumbled as Harry’s palms passed over it, and a laugh twitched out of him. “Saying hello?” Harry asked Louis, as kiss shyly pressed atop the swell of his stomach. 

Louis laughed as well, his body shaking with it. They were pressed so close that Harry shook from his movement as well.

“Hello to you too,” Harry said, spreading his palms wide over Louis’ belly. 

It felt like a tease, having Harry so close, but keeping his touches featherlight. Louis could feel it in his groin, every nerve ending alight under Harry’s skin. Louis was ready for contact that would alleviate the pressure he was feeling, not ramp it up. 

Harry’s touch bypassed his crotch entirely. It made Louis ache; he was ready for more. Harry’s thumbs circled and pressed against his hips, but then Harry went straight for Louis’ thighs. He seemed to relish every hair, every inch of skin with his mouth. 

He lingered on the little smiley face that was tattooed on the front of Louis’ thigh. Pressed a dedicated kiss against it. “Hello, thigh.”

Louis was a total goner for this nerd. He said, “I’m starting to feel like you’re going to eat me.”

Harry’s eyes were dark. He licked a broad stripe along the inside of Louis’ thigh. The saliva wetting the hair there, making that on the back of Louis’ neck stand up. Louis shivered when the air kissed the wet streak, cooling his skin more than he expected.

“I think you’d like that.” Harry had changed gears now. His voice was syrupy, filled with intent. His eyes were heavy, pinning Louis’ chest to the bed, his breath strained.

Just like that the air had shifted, thick as it filled Louis mouth and throat and lungs. He bent one of his legs and pressed his knee closer to the wall. Giving Harry more space between his thighs.

Harry’s mouth was hot. His tongue laving over Louis’ skin, marking him as if with molasses. Something that could wash off, but was stubborn and reminded you of its presence for a long, long time.

Louis’ breath was caught in his throat. He almost didn’t want to move. He wanted to leave Harry to it, let him do and take whatever he wanted.

“Hey,” Harry said, and looked up at him. His expression was sober, the spell they were both under broken for a quick second.

“Hey,” Louis said with a smile. He ran his fingers through the hair that passed for Harry’s fringe, pushing it out of his eyes. Some of the strands stuck up from his head. Louis smiled weakly at him.

They kept eye contact as Harry tugged at Louis’ pants. Louis lifted his arse of the bed to ease the slide off. Past his thighs, knees, shins and ankles. Every body part receiving a gentle kiss as Harry climbed back up.

The sheets were welcoming against Louis’ skin. He hadn’t even thought about them before, but now he was hyper aware. The pit of his stomach going wild with every new sensation. 

Louis was nearly fully hard, but he wanted to be patient. He’d never seen Harry like this. Even when Louis was exposed, Harry didn’t go for his cock, lavishing his attention over the inside of Louis’ thighs. 

The closer Harry got, his hair tickling Louis’ groin, his sac, his cock-- the more Louis braced himself for Harry’s mouth. He twitched at the thought, clenching his muscles in anticipation. He wasn’t accustomed to being on the receiving end of this kind of minute attention, devotion, really. He wanted it to last, make the most of it for the time being.

But Harry’s mouth didn’t make contact with his throbbing skin. Instead his palms were purposeful weights against the inside of his knees. He was spreading them open wider.

Harry lapped at the tender skin below Louis’ sac, only to push out his tongue to lave at them as well. Louis trembled, sounds echoing at the back of his throat, erupting out of his mouth. 

“Delicious,” Harry said when his mouth pulled away. “Every inch of you.” He blew cool air on the damp skin before pressing his mouth square against Louis’ hole. 

Louis gasped, eyes shut so tight lights danced at the back of them. He could feel every press of Harry’s tongue and mouth down to his core. Harry slurped as he got sloppy, saliva covering Louis’ arse. 

His thumbs had been pushing insistently into the flesh of Louis’ arse, pulling him open as Harry licked him. But then his thumbs disappeared. 

Harry pushed at the back of Louis’ thighs. Even in his haze, Louis understood that Harry wanted Louis to hold himself up, hold himself open for him.

He gripped himself with determination. He was grateful for this purpose, for his hands being assigned a placement. This way he wouldn’t go crazy thrashing, gripping everything within reach. This would stop him from grabbing onto Harry’s hair and pulling him closer until he suffocated. 

He could focus on this. The bite of his own nails digging into the flesh of his thighs.

Harry’s tongue was stiff, the point of it deliberately circling Louis’ rim. Louis couldn’t breath, couldn’t think about anything other than that. He moaned. He was pretty sure he could feel Harry inside of him. In his belly, in his chest, in his head.

“Harry,” he was aware of saying, at some point. Pinpricks of heat dancing beneath his skin. How was all of him alight when Harry was only touching a piece of him? How was Louis losing control this easily?

It was like with every drop of spit Harry was branding Louis. The slow deliberate push of his tongue, every rough swipe was urging Louis to open up for him.

And it was all that Louis could do to oblige. 

Louis exhaled, distantly aware of his throbbing, aching cock. When he opened his eyes he could see it, resting against his chest from the way he was holding himself. Untouched and swollen. 

But the touches he was getting, the bite to his inner thigh, followed by Harry’s tongue making patterns against his hole. It could keep him on edge forever.

Harry’s mouth pulled away for a second, and then Louis felt the prodding of something firmer than a tongue. Harry’s finger that dipped into him with an easy push. 

“Ah,” Louis exclaimed and arched into it as much as he could. Harry started to feel him out, pressing his insides. Louis nearly lost the hold he had of his legs when Harry found what he was looking for. And then it was relentless. The press of his fingertip, the assault on all of Louis’ nerves.

Louis screwed his eyes shut when the sensation was too much, crying out as Harry sucked a mark on the tender skin between Louis’ thigh and the swell of his bum. He came like that, untouched, and practically sucking Harry’s finger in, clenching hard around him.

Harry got up, and stared between Louis’ legs as he jerked himself roughly. 

He touched Louis’ sensitive cock where it lay against his hip. Louis hissed but did his best to remain still. Allowing Harry to take whatever he wanted. He watched Harry’s face twist, guttural sounds coming out of him. He didn’t even seem aware of it, his nostrils with every breath. Like he needed more and more air, running out just at the sight of Louis.

Harry spilled against the crease of Louis’ arse, making him even wetter and messier. 

“Fuck,” he said as his chest heaved violently. His fingers pressed against Louis’ soiled flesh and smeared his come all down the insides of his thighs. Louis could feel it getting matted in his hair. He’d have to shower before it dried. But for now he could allow himself this. Melting under Harry’s weight. Allowing the daydream that this could be his reality to fill his head.

 

/

 

Niall had been appointed to bring over some of Harry’s belongings. It wasn’t out of left field for him to visit Louis, especially not if he brought along some food. Nothing suspicious about that at all.

This time Niall’d brought a giant bag from Nando’s with him.

“Thought you’d like a taste of home,” he’d said with a wink, pushing the plastic boxes in Harry’s direction.

Nando’s was one of Louis’ favourites, for sure, but definitely not one Harry’s. But Harry must’ve told Niall it was for him. Louis’ gut tightened at that, 

Harry hummed and placed all the good boxes on the counter, instead reaching for the knapsack filled with Harry’s things that Niall had brought along.

“But no wine, huh?” Harry countered after fruitlessly searching through the bag. He’d taken out a a few shirts that Louis recognized. “Did you at least bring the books I asked for?” 

Niall lifted a tote bag from his side, up onto the table. The books inside nearly spilled over, and Harry opened one greedily, flipping through the pages even as Louis was first to start on the food. 

“There’s beer in the fridge,” Louis told Niall, who quickly stepped over to it in response. He pulled a six pack out of the fridge, pushing the Nando’s out of the way to make room. He cracked one bottle open and took a long pull. “That kind of day?” Louis asked.

Niall nodded towards Harry, said, “It’s getting harder to keep your mum away from you. The heart wants what it wants, and all that.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped at the comment. “There’s not long left, though, is there? I’ll see her soon.”

“Hope so,” Niall said.

“How is Geoff doing?” Harry asked, the name coming off sharp and bitter as he said it. 

“He’s a bit off but he’s not slipping yet,” Niall said with a shake of his head. He grabbed another beer, the wear of it all starting to show on his face. Louis probably looked just as bad.

“That’s not good, right?” Harry said, no longer even pretending to be interested in his food.

“No, it’s not.”

They knew Geoff had visited the cottage. He seemed anxious when he returned from his day trip. If that wasn’t enough to get him ready to confess, they were running out of options. The more time passed the more options he had to sort himself out and warn the people in charge. 

Louis clasped his hands in front of him, shoulders tense as he breathed through it. “We can’t keep Harry hiding forever.”

“I’d definitely prefer to be able to leave at some point,” Harry mumbled, but it was clear that he’d tuned out of their conversation. He brought the books with him to the bed where his workspace had been set up for the day.

“You’re not missing much with this shit weather though, I gotta say.” Niall’s eyes went wide and he blew out a breath before taking another long pull of his beer. Turning back to Louis, he muttered, “Feels like we’re gonna have to scare it out of him, at this point. He’s not fucking caving.” 

Those words struck a chord with Louis and there was a seed of an idea forming in his mind. He shifted in his seat, eagerly picking up his laptop and setting it up on the table. Harry was still reading his books, unbothered. He didn’t look threatening in the slightest, but--“Wouldn’t it scare him if he saw Harry, just walking around?”

Niall frowned, tipping his head the side. “I think he’d book it fairly quickly, then, yeah.”

“Not if he was surrounded,” Louis said, eyebrows raised. 

Niall quirked an eyebrow at him, said, “Oh? You’re just going to walk into the office with Harry in tow?”

Louis shrugged. It was so simple, but it might be the best shot they had if they wanted to put pressure on Geoff. “Why not?” 

 

/

 

Louis had emailed his idea to Steve on a whim, expecting it to be ignored but instead he was asked to come in for a meeting. Perhaps he’d be reprimanded in person for trying to pass off such a simple solution rather than minding his own business now that his work was done

Steve was sat in one of the corners of the conference room, barely shielded from the rest of the space. The hotel had done their best to approximate an office with their layout. It appeared to have been decorated, with succulents dotting desks and custom light fixtures. That alone still unsettled Louis but he’d squared his shoulders and gotten to it.

There was no privacy for the two of them, though, and it felt odd to Louis to meet with Steve outside of the regular circumstances. He still didn’t know if he’d ever get to step into the London offices again or if he’d just be dismissed and sent his belongings.

It wasn’t the best state of mind to be in when facing your supervisor.

“We’ve accepted your proposal,” Steve said, not even looking at Louis as he shifted his papers in front of him.

“Really?” Louis tried to contain his surprise, but it wasn’t easy, the muscles of his face twitching practically on demand. 

He rested his elbows on the desk and put all his attention on Louis. “You bring Harry into the office, Geoff knows the game is up and gives up the ghost. Unorthodox, but clever. He’s shut off from any of his contacts as is he’ll have no choice but give it all up.”

“Exactly,” Louis said. 

“So what’s next? What do you want?”

“I’m sorry?”

“We’ll have him under our thumb tomorrow.” Steve shrugged. “The case will be closed after that. What do you want to do after that?” The question loomed bigger now, with Steve leaning forward just the slightest amount. 

It was enough for Louis to feel like his space was being encroached on. 

Louis licked his lips reflexively. He knew what he wanted; it was to stay, to work hard, overcome any potential prejudice that might’ve developed against him. But it wasn’t up to him, not right now. 

It was best to hear what Steve had to offer before Louis spoke about what _he_ wanted. It would do to appear wak right now. “What are you thinking?” his chin subconsciously tipping up in a challenge. 

“You have a few options. Once the Twist case is closed which will be--” Steve looked at his watch “--give or take twenty-four hours from now, I doubt they’ll need our services. Then again if they do, they’ll certainly demand you for their service. Wherever you might be.”

Those words came as a shock to Louis. Of course he knew Anne was grateful that he’d found Harry but this? He couldn’t imagine the conversation that must’ve gone on regarding that, Louis’ presence and Anne’s feelings on the matter. But Louis also knew that Steve never spoke on things he wasn’t certain about. So the conversation--whatever it contained, however it had happened: it had still definitely happened. 

All Louis could do was swallow drily.

“You could leave, of course. I’m sure you’d have a lot of wind in your sails. As someone who snuffed out a leak in-house and went on to rescue a high profile client? Because of your foresight.” Steve whistled lowly. He was upping Louis’ accomplishments, somehow. It was bizarre.

“It was good planning-- Harry went along with it.” He pushed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to avoid nervously swallowing. He couldn’t quite figure out what Steve was getting at. 

“Yes. Your influence was useful in this case.” Was there sharpness in Steve’s voice? Louis couldn’t tell. Steve leaned forward. Every word sounded heavy as he spoke, “So. What are you thinking?”

The ball was in Louis’ court. “I’d like to stay at Neon.”

Steve nodded, he seemed relieved. “That’s good. I know many people will be happy to hear that.”

This couldn’t be it-- despite his accomplishments there was more, he still broke protocol by getting involved with Harry. 

As if Steve had read his mind, he said, “I have to ask-- this thing with Styles.” Steve paused, lips rolled inward as he sat pensive, maintaining eye contact with Louis. It was one of Steve’s peculiar habits, the sustained eye contact. In this case Louis met his gaze fully, prepared to own everything that happened. 

“Yes.” It was a confirmation rather than an answer, waiting for Steve’s inquiry.

“Was it-- the closeness? Being far away from everyone? I know this was your first big case, and it was a highly unusual environment-- I can see missing your ” Steve seemed to be wincing as he offered up excuses for Louis’ taking. Anything for Louis to claim as an excuse, so this breach of protocol could be brushed off. But that wasn’t right. 

“No, it wasn’t-- it wasn’t the situation. It was him. It was just _him_ , Harry.” 

Steve’s mouth went flat even as he nodded his understanding. “Right. I can assume this won’t happen again, then.”

There was no doubt in Louis mind when he said, “No, absolutely not.”

 

/

 

Louis was practically out of breath when he returned back to the flat, riding on the high that things seemed to actually be working out. And that he’d been handed the perfect opportunity to step up and talk to Harry. They had a space just to themselves, and nowhere to escape to.

Harry looked up at him, still chewing on his cereal. He blinked slowly, as if he’d just gotten up. He might’ve, considering his schedule changed so drastically now that he was fully isolated.

“He’s getting apprehended tomorrow,” Louis said without preamble, unable to stop himself.

Harry’s face lit up. “Really. That means…” He stood up, fingers grabbing at his hair before he let out a sound of joy. 

It was contagious, Louis’ own face splitting in two with a wide smile. 

He had gotten to tell Harry things would be fine after all, he thought when they hugged, Louis digging his thumb into Harry’s back. Harry was mumbling something inaudible just as his chin dug into Louis’ shoulder. The way he squeezed around him, and the way his chest vibrated with laughter suggested whatever he said was something happy.

Louis felt it too. Even with the nerves of what was to come. He brushed at his eyes as he watched Harry sit back down again. He wasn’t crying, not yet at least, but they felt heavy. 

“What happens now?” Harry asked, trying to hold back his smile and be serious. 

“Well, I should say this is just the beginning but--

“Well, we’ll need to go into the office tomorrow. You won’t see him but-- he’ll be able to see us. So he’ll know that he best co-operate and tell us everything he knows, how he got involved with Turner--” 

“Was that confirmed?”

“He was on your mum’s list. If Geoff knows what's good for him he'll give us what we need." Louis waved his hand to indicate an ongoing list. “And then you’ll be free to leave this chateau.”

Louis wasn’t sure what he’d expected from his declaration, but it certainly wasn’t a complaint.

“Is that-- that’s it? That’s a bit anticlimactic.” Harry scrunched his nose, eyes reduced to slits. 

“Did you expect a shoot out or something?” Louis asked, a bit incredulous. 

Harry laughed, a sharp sound as he tried to control himself. “No, definitely not. But some more dramatics, sure.”

“Understandable.”

“Are you gonna have to interview Geoff? That would be bizarre,” Harry said with a wince. 

Louis shook his head. “No, that wasn’t part of the deal. I’ll be just as left out as you’ll be.” He was hoping the joke would land but Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the same, really.

“So what are you gonna do, now that you don’t have to worry?” Louis asked. Harry shook his head at him, as if he still had plenty to worry about. Nothing that would register to Louis probably. 

“Well I’m gonna finish my research paper,” Harry said, raking his fingers through his hair. It was a bit of a mess, loose curls and frizz standing on end. He’d gotten used to being in hibernation. 

“You have been writing a lot lately.” It was true; Louis had seen an exponential increase in books laying open all over the flat, as well as Harry’s hunched shoulders from sitting at his laptop.

“I have a new thesis idea.”

“Really?” Louis couldn’t stop the wonder from seeping into his voice. He was impressed that in one of the most stressful moments in Harry’s life he was making progress on a paper he’d been struggling with for months.

“Yeah.” His exhale was long. Harry’s fingers scratching his scalp, hair going wild. “I haven’t checked with my advisor or anything--” he made sure to specify, “But like, I think this is good.” His smile was wide and sincere. 

“Well?” Louis prompted, eager to hear more. He hadn’t seen Harry actually excited about his studies in months.

“So apparently the Welles movie was loosely based on this story he wrote about meeting Hemingway,” Harry’s eyes were sparkling as he spoke. “Which was quite homoerotic. Which means there’s a lot of traces of that still in ‘The Wind.’ So I’m using that for my analysis instead of the documentary ” 

“Oh.” That wasn’t what Louis had expected, but he recognized the glint in Harry’s eye. It was heartwarming, comforting, addictive, all at once.

“Then, dunno. Maybe I’ll pitch your idea for the foundation.”

“The screenings?”

“Yeah, it’d be nice to be home again, I think,” Harry’s eyes flicked to Louis’ meaningfully. Louis breath caught in his lungs.

“That’s nice.” He was amazed at how easily Harry said he wanted to be back in England. As if he hadn’t spent the past few years trying to be as far away from home as possible. Maybe it could be that easy. Maybe they would find themselves in the same country in less than a month and they could pick up where they left off. Louis swallowed, unable to look Harry in the eye anymore. 

“What about you?” Harry asked, jerking Louis back to reality. 

Louis paused before answering, trying to collect his thoughts. “I uh, get to stay at Neon. Even with us-- well. People knowing about us.” Louis cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure how much Harry knew about what had happened, despite speaking to his mum and sister every day it was possible he didn’t know that Louis’ employers knew about the breach.

“That’s great,” Harry said, he sounded sincere, unbothered.

“I can’t do it, I--” Louis frowned but wouldn’t let himself chicken out. “You know I care too much about you. I can’t work with you.”

Louis continued, eyes closed briefly as he gathered himself, “I mean. Steve said you guys, your mum might want me to stay on with you.” Louis’ lips curled inwards before took a look at Harry. He was cradling his jaw in his hand, watching Louis speak. “I just can’t work with you.”

“But that’s just work, right? You care too much, you said.”

“I do,” Louis answered. Two quick words that felt like setting an avalanche loose, Louis’ insides roiling at the implications of what Harry was saying. He scrambled to get his thoughts in order.

“That’s good,” Harry said, his answering smile crooked, deep enough that a dimple was on prominent display. It felt too surreal to Louis in the moment; couldn’t possibly be happening, could it? 

“Harry. You don’t even like me.” He sounded whiny, he knew. But he couldn’t help it. Every doubt seeping out into his words. His heart hammering in his chest. He was being ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn’t help it.

He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re still on that.”

“That’s what you said. Just bodies that respond to one another.” And they did, god they did. Even just being in the same room right now, under a single lamp, shadows cutting across Harry’s face as he listened to Louis. 

“Sure, the first time, maybe. I was pretty pissed.”

The first time, _maybe?_

Louis held his breath at that. He could practically feel his lungs pulsing with the lack of oxygen, wanting to burst with the need for more. 

“I--”

“You can’t have thought that.” Harry sounded defeated. “I know I’m not the best at showing… emotion, but.”

“The gala,” Louis said, remembering that night. It felt different. Not just because they were around a large number of people that both of them knew. Not because it was alright for them to think they were together because it was part of the deceit… But also because they felt almost equal. Especially that night. Louis knew by then how he felt, knew how utterly gone he’d been for Harry, despite of the sour note things ended on.

Had Harry been on the same page? Or even still, had Harry been pages ahead of him?

“That was pretty great. Getting to be with you in public like that? Actually participating instead of being forced to stay on the sidelines?” His smile cocked to the side. “Yeah, that was nice. But I felt more than than earlier, if ‘m being honest.”

“If?”

“Louis. Please.” Harry looked nervous. His chest rose with a deep breath and he ran his fingers through his hair. “Come on. You can’t tell me you feel too strongly about me to actually work with me again and start giving me shit about one word, okay?”

“You’re right,” Louis said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. “I guess… If we’re being honest, I-- I loved you before then. I mean that was fun, but-- Harry.” His cheeks felt tight, brows drawn together. Louis reached out to push some of Harry’s hair out of his face. It was getting long and unruly, but he he didn’t mind it. Didn’t mind whatever Harry looked like. He’d seen him primped for events, in pick up outfits, on lazy weekend mornings and hungover. 

And this Harry in front of him, with a softness at the corner of his eyes, lips a bit chapped… This Harry was his favourite. Simply because he was the one with Louis, right now.

Harry sniffed, tilting his head up. “Okay I’m going to cry if you keep talking so like. Don’t.”

“No talking.” Louis’ chest, his heart felt full. So full the strength of it radiated outward. He picked up Harry’s hand and pressed a kiss at the back of it. 

 

/

 

Harry and Louis were expected at the hotel and its temporary office at ten o’clock. 

Their arrival was choreographed down to the second; the way Harry would walk in first, at just the right angle for Geoff to see him sitting at his assigned desk. He’d walk ahead of Louis so that Geoff would be left with a brief moment of thinking he was imagining seeing Harry.

And then Louis stepped into view, one hand casually clapping over Harry’s shoulder.

Louis couldn’t stop himself from looking in Geoff’s direction, and really, one look wasn’t going to jeopardized anything.

As expected, Geoff was staring at them both. Louis tried to keep his face neutral, but there might have been a glint in his eye, a pull of his lip from the satisfaction of putting Geoff on the spot.

“You alright there, Geoff?” Louis called out at him. It wasn’t part of the plan, but he was feeling bold. 

And the way Geoff blinked, his eyes glazing over with shock and mouth opening and closing, as if he couldn’t decide on what to say. Louis could see people starting to crowd in on Geoff where he sat, still frozen in shock. Liam pressed against his back, and Geoff was cornered.

There was no doubt in Louis’ mind that Geoff would fold under the slightest of pressure at this point. He’d probably have fallen over had he been standing up.

Louis pressed his fingers against Harry’s back, leading him back outside. They stepped into a side office, the back of Louis’ neck still prickling.

“That’s it?” Harry asked, just as the door shut behind them. 

As if this wasn’t a huge success already, as if things hadn’t gone above and beyond. “You have very high expectations, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“I think it’s over, yeah. At least for us.” It wouldn’t be as satisfying, hearing the details of Geoff’s confession second-hand, but the important part was that it would come. If Turner was involved like Louis suspected he wouldn’t get away with it. His stomach clenched in anticipation. And he squeezed Harry’s hand, just because he could.

“So what now? Can we get coffee?” Harry’s eyes widened, a smirk playing at his lips. “In _public_?”

“Sure, thought maybe you’d want to see your mum and sister first?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry looked around them, as if expecting Anne and Gemma to pop around the corner with confetti. 

“They’re not _here_ here,” Louis said with a laugh. “But they are upstairs. That’s where their rooms are.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis repeated. He pressed in close, hands splayed out of Harry’s chest before kissing him softly. Harry reciprocated easily, tongue swiping across the seam of Louis’ mouth, asking for more, already distracted. Louis pulled away. “We’ve got time for coffee later, yeah?”

“All the time in the world,” Harry said, sporting one of the broadest smiles Louis had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a [ tumblr post](https://turnyourankle.tumblr.com/post/182323657275/cut-your-teeth-on-my-heart-by-turnyourankle) for this fic if you'd like to reblog it, or shoot me a message over there. Thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! hit me up in comments or at turnyourankle on tumblr. There's no fic post yet but there are some teasers for what's coming up.


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